Splinters
by WildClover27
Summary: Splinters: sometimes painful, sometimes just little bits of a whole.
1. Chapter 1

Splinters

Chapter 1

_Note: There is strong reference to the episode 20 Gallons to Kill. I didn't write the episode and get no monetary gain from it. Just injecting a tiny bit of canon as background to the story. _

Garrison sat on a rock behind some tall reedy plants close to the water's edge, schmeisser on his knee, ears and eyes attuned to their surroundings though he thought they might actually have made a clean getaway. The sun was hot, but a cool breeze offset some of the heat. A dragonfly, wings iridescent, chose the end of the gun barrel as a perch for a brief respite before taking off in search of whatever it was dragonflies searched for. The reeds swayed slightly in the breeze and the surface of the water rippled quietly.

Craig looked around, not seeing anything suspicious. What he did see were his men sprawled on the ground, resting muscles and joints made weary by the long and fast hike away from the radar station they had left in ruins. This had turned into the mother of all missions. They had gone to a party in Istanbul, gotten microfilm of some important documents, passed the microfilm on to the Resistance and tried to take a nice leisurely flight home. The leisurely flight had ended abruptly over Yugoslavia when their plane was hit by flak and they were forced to jump. From there it had been a learning experience for Garrison. They had been accosted by locals and he had learned Actor understood Yugoslavian along with all his many other linguistic capabilities. Was there any language the blasted Italian didn't know, he wondered in silent admiration? Oh, well, all the better for them. With no fuel for transportation out of the German infested area, he had learned from Casino how to construct a still and that potato alcohol was a great substitute for benzene. After finally gaining cooperation from the locals, who wanted their hides as much as the Germans did, rescuing some of the village men from a firing squad, and liberating a tank, well, he just couldn't pass up the radar station that had alerted the enemy to their plane and resulted in its destruction. With Casino at the controls of the tank, they had faded off into the sunset like a Saturday matinee Western . . . until they ran out of alcohol, of course, and then they were back hoofing it to friendly territory.

Casino, the resident expert driver of tanks and tractors, was lying on his back, knees bent up, breathing heavily, for once too tired for a cigarette. Goniff was on his side close to his friend. Chief was hunkered down further up the trail, ears and eyes alert.

It was the oldest member of the team Garrison was concerned about. Actor was lying on his back, head under the meager shade of a tree. His breathing was visibly labored. Usually the con man showed no effects of the enforced marches through the countryside and was to be found beside Garrison, plotting their next move. Maybe Craig was pushing them too hard. He tended to forget the Italian was ten years older than he, and they had been on the move, mostly afoot, for four and a half days.

"I 'ate to ask this, Warden," whispered Goniff, "but 'ow much farther?"

"About another five miles," whispered Garrison back to him.

"Oh, blimey, Warden, I'm bushed!" the Englishman whined quietly.

True to form, Casino began complaining. "Yuh just had to blow up that radar station, didn't you? You coulda let the flyboys bomb it."

"It would have had them spotted and intercepted before they could have dropped a single bomb," said Garrison patiently.

"Besides," added Chief in a whisper, "he got to blow something up."

"Yeah, I guess."

Goniff too had noticed the confidence man's fatigue. "'Ey, you okay? You ain't saying anything."

"I simply have nothing to add to this conversation," said the con man haughtily.

"That's a new one," remarked Casino snidely.

"Knock it off, Casino," said Garrison out of habit.

The lieutenant would have liked to have rested longer, but they could not take the chance of staying in one place for more than a few minutes. They had crossed into northern Italy, still a German and Fascist stronghold. Without any kind of papers or safe contacts, Garrison had opted for a longer route, keeping them in the foothills of the Italian Alps for greater cover. At least Italian was the confidence man's native language and that had been of help a couple times now. It was still five miles to the safe house the small group of charcoal burner partisans had given them directions to. Hopefully this one would at least have a roof. The nights were still close to freezing. Craig estimated it would be another day and a half until they reached the town close to the French border where he had contacts that could help them get back to England.

"Okay," said Garrison. "Move out."

With stifled groans, the five men hauled themselves to their feet and got into their usual file, with the exception that Garrison hung back with Actor, who usually took the rear. He wanted to keep an eye on his second without his second realizing that was what he was doing. Fat chance.

"Have you been in this area before?" asked the lieutenant in a hushed voice.

"Usually farther up into the mountains," replied the con man. "I used to ski up there. I would not go any farther north," advised Actor. "The terrain becomes more rugged and more difficult to traverse."

"Maybe we can steal a car for part of the ways tomorrow," said Garrison.

"We can only hope," replied the Italian with a grin.

The older man seemed to have recovered and was moving easily and able to speak in full sentences without seeming short of breath. It made Garrison a little less worried.

GGGGG

"I'm still worried!"

Major Richards looked across the map table at the young woman who had invaded his office, albeit with his permission.

"I am aware of that," he said wryly.

The Commando officer watched the auburn-haired woman reach for his pack of cigarettes, take one out and light it with the lighter that was on the table beside it. He had seen her smoke a cigarette once. In the span of an hour, she had just consumed four of his Lucky Strikes. He watched her study the map as she blew smoke away from him and wondered if she expected a sign to pop up saying this was where the guerrilla unit was.

"One day late, no problem," said Terry. "Two days late – eh – not a problem yet. It's been five days and no word."

"What would you like me to do?" asked Richards patiently. "We have nothing in the area along the flight path they were taking."

I know," said Terry wearily. "I'm sorry, Kevin. I can't stand sitting on my hands and doing nothing. I do not make a good _hausfrau_."

That was for certain, thought Richards with amusement. When Lt. Garrison had contacted him a few weeks ago, requesting his sister be reinstated on his team of convicts, the older officer had been guiltily relieved. He liked Terry Garrison and thought, from what he had read of the reports on her progress in Scotland; she could turn into a good operative. She might yet. However, she was a handful, and patience was not one of her strong points.

"Terry," said Richards with more patience than _he_ normally had, "go home, sit on your hands, and wait. I will call you as soon as I hear anything."

Terry took in a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh with a reluctant nod. "Okay." She looked up at the officer. "Thanks, Kevin."

He nodded. "Give them more time," he advised. "It's a long walk from Turkey to France."

G

Terry didn't go home and sit on her hands. Instead she went on into Brandonshire to the Blue Fox. Kit Gallagher looked up from restocking the bottles on the back shelves and frowned at the worried look on her friend's face.

"No word?" she asked.

"No," said Terry unhappily. "Is Shiv here?"

"Yeah."

The flame-haired girl reached behind and under the bar to ring the buzzer that went to the basement. A couple minutes later, Jake Bradford emerged from the curtains to the back storage room. He took in Terry's countenance.

"Not good, huh?" he asked sympathetically.

"Nothing yet," admitted Terry. She eyed him speculatively. "I figure they probably went down somewhere in Yugoslavia. You got any contacts there?"

Shiv snorted. "Are you kidding? It's too far away. It's a solid German stronghold. And the natives aren't too friendly. And no, I'm not sending you in there."

"It was a thought," she said without much conviction.

Terry hiked a hip up on what was becoming known as Actor's seat. Kit poured her a Coca Cola and added a healthy shot of dark rum to it. Terry took a long swig and sighed again. Shiv walked up and put an arm around her, giving her a hug.

"Craig's a tough nut," said the man, knowing from experience. "He'll get out of there."

"Sure," said Terry with a forced smile, leaning into him for a moment.

He'll get out she thought, if they hadn't gone down with the plane, gotten shot up as they parachuted, been captured by the Krauts, or shot by the locals. And it wasn't just her brother she was worried about.

GGGGG

Garrison and the three men remained hidden in the trees overlooking the small farm that was supposed to be their safe house. Chief was scouting the perimeter, looking for signs of a trap or evidence of German occupation. Fifteen minutes later, the Indian returned.

"Looks clear, Warden," said Chief in a whisper.

A second later, his head snapped around to look at the house. An elderly man, bent and shuffling had emerged, carrying two pails, and was headed for the barn. Garrison and Actor exchanged silent looks. They waited until the man had entered the barn, then Actor affected a slightly stooped posture and headed across the yard toward the barn. He did not look like the aristocratic man he was. The clothes he had obtained and substituted for the German uniform he had been wearing were old, mismatched, and two sizes too small for his large frame, making him appear to be a displaced beggar.

The other men spread out behind trees, weapons ready, eyes searching for trouble. The con man paused at the slightly open barn door and glanced quickly around before easing into the barn.

Garrison waited with well hidden anxiety. The first contact was always dangerous. He had total faith in Actor, but that didn't mean something couldn't go wrong. After an eternity of five minutes, the con man appeared at the door and gave a slow nod. Garrison motioned Goniff to go first, followed by Casino and then Chief as each reached the barn safely. Garrison eased in last, pulling the tall door closed behind him.

The barn was good sized, clearly intended to house more than the two bony dairy cows that were in stalls. It had the typical barn smell that had Goniff wrinkling his nose and that Garrison was used to. The farmer stood next to one of the stalls with Actor beside him. The confidence man had dropped his façade and was standing with his normal height and bearing. Craig approached the two men. The farmer might have been fifty or eighty. His skin was weathered and wrinkled, clothing worn and frayed, caked dried mud appearing to be the only thing holding his boots together. Cautious dark eyes surveyed him under thick bushy graying eyebrows.

"Lt. Garrison, this is il signor' Angelo," introduced Actor with the casualness of old friends. The crooked grin appeared. "He says we may stay in his barn tonight. There are plenty of blankets and his wife will provide us with a hot supper."

"Grazie, signor," said Garrison in the little Italian he remembered.

The Italian said something in his native dialect to Actor. Actor in turn, translated. "He says you are welcome. He must get his cows milked and get back to the house."

Garrison thought a moment about the response of his men, but decided he could deal with it. He held his hand out to Angelo with a gesture to take one of the pails. After an appraising look, the farmer handed one of them to the officer. Craig walked toward the second stall.

"Blimey, Warden," piped up Goniff predictably. "You know how to do that?"

"I did grow up on a ranch," replied Garrison. "Our milk didn't come in bottles from the store. It's been awhile, but I think I remember how to do it."

He pulled a short three-legged stool close to the pale brown cow, running a hand along her flank and murmuring soothing words to her.

"I don't think she understands English, Warden," cracked Casino.

Garrison ignored him, sitting down on the low seat and rolling up his shirt sleeves.

"Perhaps, when we return to England, Casino could be persuaded to fix up one of the stalls in the stable and we might obtain a dairy cow for Teresa."

Garrison turned his head slowly to look at the men. Casino, Goniff and Chief were grinning. Actor stood observing him with a serene inscrutable face, broken by the twinkle in the hazel eyes that was unseen by the others.

"No - cow," said Craig, firmly.

He turned back to the animal in front of him, adjusting his cap and leaning the side of his face against the solid warm flank and began sending streams of hot milk to squirt and ping against the inside of the pail. He had forgotten how comforting it was to lean against warm cow.

A spattering of rapid conversation erupted between the two Italians. Garrison continued what he was doing and waited for Actor to translate.

"Did he say he has gasoline?" asked Casino, understanding a word here and there of the fast Northern dialect that was different from the Sicilian he had learned at home.

"Yes," replied Actor. The con man turned to Garrison. "The Germans 'requisitioned' his truck, but he was able to bury the cans of petrol so they could not find them. He says we may dig them up and there is an old truck in the woods we might be able to get running."

Maybe things were starting to look up, thought Garrison. They had crossed northern Italy before pretending to be Romans looking for work. Hopefully it would work again.

"Okay, tonight we dig up the petrol. Tomorrow morning, early, Chief can take a look at the truck and see if he can fix it."

The dark of night found Angelo, Garrison and the cons in the midst of woods roughly a quarter of a mile from the farm buildings. A hearty supper of thick stew and fresh bread gave the men energy for the task at hand. Actor and Casino were taking their turns with two gray-handled worn shovels, digging in the dirt where Angelo had directed them. The aristocratic Italian fervently wished they had gloves as he was getting blisters and splinters on his palms and fingers from the shovel he was wielding. The safecracker had been more vocal about it until Garrison had ordered him to be quiet. It took about twenty minutes to unearth the first two Jerry cans. Once exhumed, the shovels were passed to Chief and Goniff and the first two took up the watch. After another twenty minutes, two more cans were exhumed. The holes were filled in and old leaves were scattered over the freshly disturbed dirt. The cons each took a gas can, while Garrison and Angelo took the shovels, and the group made their way back to the farm. The cans were hidden in the wood pile and the now weary men took their turns sleeping in blankets in the hay loft.

First light found them back in the woods, surveying the somewhat rusty hulk of a flatbed truck with wooden slat sides. Its axels were resting on blocks.

Chief eyed it wryly. "Ain't goin' far without wheels," he remarked.

He and Casino opened the hood and climbed up on opposite fenders. Goniff took up the first watch, disappearing into the woods and making a wide circuit around the group. Actor and Garrison stood with Angelo and watched the Indian and the safecracker testing hoses, belts and wires in the engine. Garrison was dubious of the derelict piece of junk, but if anyone could fix it it would be Chief. Actor wasn't as certain. In a low voice, he questioned their host. It resulted in a wide grin and a tap of the temple with a forefinger by Angelo, who fired off a spat of Italian. This in turn brought a wide grin from the confidence man and more Italian. Garrison watched the two, waiting impatiently for an explanation. He recognized a couple words, but not enough to understand the conversation that ensued.

Actor turned to the lieutenant. "Angelo has the battery and wheels hidden under the barn."

The officer and his second exchanged grins. Garrison walked over to the truck and looked up at his other two men.

"Can you get it running?" he asked.

Casino jumped down and wiped his hands on his trouser legs. Chief just turned his head to look at his leader.

"If I can get holda some balin' wire, a battery and wheels, should be able to," said the Indian.

"Got the last two," said Garrison. "We should be able to lay hands on the first."

"So what 're we waitin' for?" asked Casino.

They all went back to the farm and gathered the tools and parts they needed. It took the men almost an hour and a half to get the old truck running. It did not sound great, but it seemed like it would hopefully get them to the French border.

Angelo came back when they were through and spoke to Actor. The confidence man approached Garrison.

"He wishes me to come back to the fattoria with him. His wife has put together some things for us," said Actor in a low voice.

"Trap?" asked Garrison, suspicious because it kept them all alive.

Actor shook his head. "I don't think so. If he was going to turn us in to the Germans or the facisti he would have done it by now. They are poor people, but they will share what they have with us."

"Okay," said Craig. "I'll have Chief follow you just in case."

The con man nodded and went back over to Angelo. The two men headed off through the woods. Garrison looked at Chief and gave a silent jerk of his head for the Indian to follow Actor. Chief melted into the woods to the right of the two men.

"You will not get through the checkpoints dressed like that," warned Angelo in Italian. "Your leader is dressed good, but not you. The other two men will pass as they are."

"It was what I was able to acquire," said Actor in the same language with a shrug. He was aware the clothes were not only not to his taste, but also not in keeping with Garrison's attire.

Actor followed Angelo into the fattoria. A tired-looking middle-aged farm wife smiled welcomingly to him.

"Mia moglie," said Angelo by way of introduction.

"Signora," acknowledged Actor politely.

The woman addressed her husband with a smile. "He is a tall one." She eyed the con man's legs. "Yes, I think Ernesto's pants might fit him better than what he is wearing."

Angelo was studying Actor's frame also. "Yes, and one of my shirts should not pull so tightly across his shoulders."

A pair of pants and a chambray work shirt were draped over the back of a kitchen chair. Angelo picked them up and handed them to Actor, nodding to the storeroom. "You can change in there."

Actor accepted the clothing with a frown. "Ernesto is your son?" he asked. Angelo nodded. "Will he not be needing his pants?"

Angelo shook his head with a sad expression. "No. He died in a German work camp over the winter."

"I am very sorry," said Actor sincerely.

The woman tried to cover her sorrow by shooing at the con man with her hands. "You change. See if they fit."

Actor nodded and disappeared into the storeroom where he quickly changed. The pants were only a little short on him. The shirt fit across the shoulders with the top two buttons open, but the sleeves ended a full inch above his wrists. That was remedied by rolling the sleeves up his forearms. It was better than what he had been wearing. Finished, he stepped back into the kitchen.

With an overly bright smile hiding her grief, the woman nodded her approval. She picked up a cloth sack from the table and handed it to the con man. "Food for your journey."

Actor knew how scarce food was throughout all of Italy. "It is most kind of you, Signora, but we will be fine."

"Nonsense, young man!" said the woman. "We have more than some others. We share what we have. You take this."

Angelo nodded. Actor accepted the sack, looking at the two smiling faces.

"Tante grazie," he said.

With a quick scan of the farmyard, he slipped out the door to a female admonishment of "go safely."

Actor slipped into the woods and headed back in the direction of the others. A little ways down the path, Chief stepped up beside him.

The Indian nodded toward the bag, also aware of the different clothes. "Food?"

Actor nodded.

"Can they afford that?" questioned the young man doubtfully.

"Probably not," admitted Actor. "But to refuse would be to insult them."

"Good people," said Chief.

"Yes, very good people." Actor pulled into himself again.

G

With Actor driving the truck, Garrison in the cab with him, and the others in the back, they made their way across northern Italy, skirting around the larger towns and cities. The roads were surprisingly empty and they came across few roadblocks. These were circumvented by a longer drive down side roads.

Actor was quiet. He wasn't sure why the interaction with the Italian farm couple was affecting him so. The woman giving him her dead son's clothes to wear was having a sobering effect on the con man. He wasn't used to accepting charity and especially something that had an emotional impact on the person giving it to him. He was used to the snobbery of the privileged class, not the warmth and generosity of the _contadini_.

Garrison was aware of the mood his second was in and did not know the reason for it. "Something happen at the farmhouse?" he asked casually.

"No," denied Actor. "Angelo and his wife were very hospitable."

"It's amazing," remarked Craig, "how the ones who have so little are so willing to give what they have."

"Yes, it is," replied the con man.

Actor drove for several hours before allowing Chief to take over as wheelman. Garrison slid over to the middle of the front seat and the Italian got in the passenger side. In less than a mile, the con man was asleep.

The major obstacle to their travel that day was the checkpoint going into France. They were forced to abandon the truck and make their way out of Italy on foot. Stealing a car was easier now. Garrison was more familiar with the Resistance networks in that area of the France and was able to make contact, providing them with safe houses and false papers to get to Marseilles. There they were able to contact England and arrange transport to Gibraltar by sub and a plane back to England.

In all it had taken them almost two weeks to return from Istanbul when it should have taken less than a day. Garrison figured his sister was going to be a nervous wreck.


	2. Chapter 2

Splinters

Chapter 2

"We're spread too thin. It's too far between safe houses. And there aren't enough resources."

Gray-blue eyes looked up from under slightly furrowed blond eyebrows in frustration. "And what would you suggest?" Shiv asked sarcastically.

Terry leaned on stiff arms atop the map of Europe in the same stance as the underground leader. "We need to set up more cells. Look at this. We have one cell in Belgium. Half of France isn't covered. We have three operatives in Rome to cover all of Italy. And . . . we don't have a thing in Germany."

"Germany?" exclaimed Shiv in disbelief. "You expect me to walk into Germany and recruit resistance people?"

"Why not?" questioned Terry as if it was not a problem. "You're Aryan-looking enough to get away with it."

"You're crazy, you know that?" The blond man shook his head. "You want me to set up more cells and in the same breath tell me we don't have enough resources. What do you want me to set these new cells up with?"

"The Jerries steal from us, so we steal from the Jerries." She said it as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

"Craig was nuts to take you back into the fold." Shiv straightened and turned to the back table, pouring a hefty drink of whiskey. "You're getting to be too much like your hoods." He took a long sip of the hard liquor.

"Don't call them that," shot back Terry testily. She hadn't heard from them in almost two weeks and she was scared and worried.

"What? Yours?" The sarcasm was getting thick.

"No, 'hoods'. Aren't you hitting the sauce a little early?" the girl asked.

Shiv took a deliberate drink. "You're not my girlfriend anymore. It's none of your business how much I drink."

"No," Terry nodded to Kit who was leaned against the back of a chair watching the two, "she is."

"You're drinking too much," said the flame-haired girl.

Shiv closed his eyes and shook his head. "Okay, we need more in France. I have to meet with our people in Nantes. I'm trying to set up a connection to the Comet Line. I'll feel things out."

The door to their own little war room opened to reveal an excited Meg Schaeffer. Terry caught her breath, not daring to hope at the broad smile on the young Englishwoman's face.

"They're alive," burst Meg without preliminary.

"Thank God!" breathed Terry, slumping in relief.

"They're on a sub going to Gibraltar. A plane will bring them to the base in London." Meg hadn't realized until this mission just how much Goniff meant to her.

"Anybody hurt?" asked Terry worriedly.

Meg shook her head. "They will be coming in about noon tomorrow."

Terry looked at Kit. "Can you run me out to Archbury in the morning so I can get the Packard?"

"Sure." Kit was relieved for Terry. The woman had been trying to hide her fear and worry, but they had been friends too long for Kit to not recognize it.

Shiv, in the meanwhile, had sat back and lit a cigarette. He knew her brother and the thugs would be foremost on his ex-girlfriend's mind. Maybe by the time he returned from Nantes, the dust would have settled and he could get her to make another run for him. He had to admit, she was getting darn good at it. She had progressed from 'you want me to do _what?'_ to coming up with good ideas in planning their moves. In a way it was a shame Terry had gone back to her brother, otherwise she could have spent more time with Jaguar. Maybe they could have developed into more than a small thorn in the side of army intelligence. Jake had very little use for anyone in authority, especially military. General Garrison had ruined what little life he had left after losing his medical license, because he had dared to live 'in sin' with the old man's daughter. Jake Bradford had disappeared from the United States before his name had come up in the draft. Taking orders from the army just plain did not suit him. He had also seen Kelly Garrison left in a POW camp by the OSS and the snafu of Craig and Christine being sent on the same mission by two different branches of the American army. He not only did not like the army, he thoroughly enjoyed showing it up with the exploits of his novice resistance group.

GGGGG

Terry stood beside the Packard and watched the transport plane taxi from the runway to the hardstand. It seemed to take forever for the two props to slow to a stop, and longer still for the hatch to open. Craig swung out first, spotting her almost immediately. He ambled in her direction giving her a chance to study him. Unlike most of their missions, he did not seem tired and he was clean shaven and wearing army clothes. His stride was easy and there were no telltale bandages or slings to indicate an injury not reported to her previously.

In turn, he studied his sister. She was standing with arms crossed in front of her . . . not a good sign. He deliberately did not speed up his gait. Terry dropped her arms and started forward to meet him partway. They stopped a couple feet apart and exchanged looks.

"You scared the living crap out of me," said Terry the timbre of her voice betraying the worry that was hidden on her face.

Craig graced her with his best officer's expression and said in a formal voice, "I couldn't seem to find a pay phone in the middle of Yugoslavia." The corners of his mouth curved upward to almost meet the laugh crinkles under his eyes.

"You jerk," said Terry in frustration and humor. "You're not hurt?"

"No injuries to any of us," assured Garrison.

He watched the smile spread across her face. The next thing he knew they were hugging each other. A little bit stronger and she could have bruised his ribs. Her grip relaxed, but she didn't pull away. Instead she seemed to be looking over his shoulder.

"Why are they standing by the plane?" she asked dubiously. "Did you tell them I have rabies or something?"

Craig pulled his head back and looked at her. "No. They probably figured we were going to get in another argument."

"Not this time, Brother," said Terry. "But if you ever pull a stunt like this again . . ."

"Uh, Sister, we did not ask for the plane to get hit by flak."

Terry shook her head. "You crashed a plane and nobody got hurt?"

"We jumped," replied Garrison. "We did lose both pilots."

Terry frowned. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, so am I." Craig noticed she was sneaking a look over his shoulder. "Go on," he said. "I'll get the car started."

With a grin, Terry stepped around him. The men stood and watched her. They were all dressed in clean army clothes, shaved and hair combed. Her gait sped up until she broke into a loping run. The four started forward.

Goniff got to her first, grabbing her into a hard hug. She pressed her cheek against his and then turned her head to kiss him.

"You okay, Love?" she asked.

"O' course, Ducks," he grinned. "You 'appen to cook dinner before you came out here?"

"Goniff!" she protested loudly. She grinned back at him. "O' course I did," she mimicked him back. She gave the Englishman a squeeze and stepped back.

Uncharacteristically, Casino grabbed her up in a hug that had her standing on tiptoes. "Guess I'm back to puttin' up with your lip again."

"Yeah. Got a problem with that?" she shot back at him with a laugh.

"Not a bit, Babe."

She reached a hand up and brushed the stubborn curl on his forehead back.

"Will yuh quit hoggin' her, Man?" asked a quiet voice.

Terry looked at Chief in surprise. He stepped up and pulled her to him. "Hey, Little Sister." He whispered into her ear.

"Hey, Little Brother," she whispered back. She gave him a hard hug too, happy to have it returned.

After a moment, Terry stepped back. She turned to the con man. He stood aloof and watching her with inscrutable eyes. With dignity, he gave her a nod.

Terry shook her head and smiled. "Oh get over it, Actor," she admonished. He broke into a grin as she took a step forward and launched herself at him. He caught her up and lifted her into a hug. Her arms went around his neck. "You're just too darn tall," she laughed.

"I find nothing wrong with my height," he said.

"It's those dang gazelle legs of yours," she whispered in his ear before he released her to slide back to her feet.

"I beg your pardon?" he said with mock indignation.

Terry laughed and turned to start back toward the car. "Marmocchia," she heard behind her. Her grin widened.

They all trooped to the idling Packard. Casino, Goniff and Chief got in the back seat. Actor held the front door open so Terry could scoot in the middle beside her brother before he got in. Garrison drove sedately to the gate and sped up after they were out of sight of the base, more than ready to get back to the comfortable haven of the Mansion.

Terry waited until they were on the main road before asking Craig, "Do you still have to debrief?"

"No," replied the officer. "I was able to do that at Gibraltar."

He patted his shirt pocket before remembering he had smoked his last purloined cigarette while waiting for the plane that brought the men back to England. Wordlessly, Actor pulled a partial pack from his shirt pocket and lit one. As he reached over to hand it to Garrison, Terry plucked it from his fingers and took a drag before sticking the end between her brother's lips. Craig appreciatively filled his lungs with smoke before nodding to his second in thanks. How the man managed to always have a supply of things like cigarettes and matches when the others didn't was beyond Craig.

Actor in the meantime was giving Teresa a disapproving look for her antic. "Would you like a cigarette, Little One?" he offered with a slight touch of sarcasm.

"No thank you," replied Terry brightly. "I've been smoking too much lately."

The Italian shook his head and lit one for himself.

"Okay, so what happened?" asked Terry. "What took you so long?"

"It is a long way from Yugoslavia to Marseilles," replied Garrison.

"Yeah, 'specially since the Warden had to come up with another mission to justify us takin' the scenic route," added Casino.

"He found something to blow up?" Terry asked with a cheeky grin.

"Naw," replied Casino, knowing for the moment he was safe to tease the man who was driving. "He couldn't blow it up. We had to knock it down."

Garrison did not rise to the jibe. His sister was grinning widely now, while his second just shook his head and continued to smoke.

"I want to hear this one," encouraged Terry.

It took a good portion of the drive home to get out the whole story, with Casino, Goniff and Chief providing the bits and pieces while interrupting each other. When they got to the part about Goniff becoming drunk and sick from drinking the manure-laced alcohol that was their tank fuel, Terry was flat out laughing.

"Goniff! How could you?" she chortled.

"That is what we all would like to know," said Actor with disgust.

"'Ey Warden?" piped up Goniff in his usual bubbly manner. "Casino said the drinks are on him when we get back. 'Ow about a trip to the Doves tonight?"

After two weeks of enforced close contact with the boys, Garrison was ready for some peace and quiet. "All right," he said with reluctance to cover his eagerness for solitude.

"Great!" said Casino exuberantly, then he sobered. "Hey, I was just jokin' about the drinks all bein' on me."

"Sorry, Mate," grinned the Englishman. "I 'eard it plain as plain can be."

"If Casino's buying, can I go too?" asked Terry.

"Someone will have to be along to keep them out of jail," remarked Actor.

"No," said Terry with a shake of her head. "Craig can bail 'em out in the morning."

This earned her an unappreciative look from her brother and a chuckle from the Italian.

GGGGG

Dinner was a pleasant affair with everyone in a jovial mood. The mission was over, no one had been injured, and at least for the cons, an evening at the Doves was on the agenda. Things had pretty much returned to normal. After eating, Terry cleared the table and started the dishes while the men took turns showering and getting ready for the evening's recreation.

Terry was just finishing up in the kitchen when Casino approached her. "Hey, Babe, you got a needle in your sewing kit I can borrow?"

"Yes," replied Terry. She gave him a puzzled look. "You need something sewed up?"

"Naw," replied Casino. "Splinters. We were diggin' up jerry cans and the shovels were lousy. We all got splinters and blisters."

Terry frowned, rinsed the soapy dishwater off her hands and dried them on a towel before reaching for Casino's wrist and turning his hand over. He held the other one palm up for her too. There were numerous reddened blisters and embedded splinters.

"Why didn't you say something before?" she demanded in frustration.

"We've had 'em now for almost a week. Guess we got used to it."

Terry shook her head. "Go back out with the others. I'll get my kit and an aide kit and doctor all of you."

"Thanks, Babe," said the safecracker with a grin. He turned to walk away and heard her low mutter of disgust, 'men.' His grin widened.

Terry retrieved both kits and sat down at the table. She worked for several minutes with an alcohol dipped needle and tweezers, then applied a bit of ointment. "Don't pop the blisters," she warned. "Just let them go down." Goniff popped up beside her for his turn. When she had finished with the pickpocket, she looked up at Chief.

"Took 'em out with my blade," he said.

"Let me see," said Terry.

"Yeah, Mom."

"I'm Little Sister, I'm not your mother."

Chief held his hands up for her inspection. The blisters were raw and open. "Didn't know you weren't 'sposed to pop 'em."

"It just sets them up for infection," explained Terry. "Let me know if they get worse than that." She noted the con man was missing. "What about Actor. Did he participate in this physical labor?"

"Yeah," replied Casino. "He had first shift with me. I 'magine his hands are full too."

"Where is he?" asked Terry wearily.

"Upstairs listenin' to that boring music he likes on the wireless."

"What about Craig?" asked Terry, doubtful that her brother had helped in the endeavor.

"Naw," replied Casino. "Warden, don't play in the dirt."

"Yes he does," chirped Goniff. "He likes to draw pictures in the dirt with a stick."

Terry chuckled as she remembered watching him do it a time or two.

"Don't encourage them, Terry," came a dry voice from the office.

"Well, you do," she shot back.

Terry gathered her supplies and went upstairs. Actor was sitting in one of the high-backed chairs with a contented smile on his face, listening to classical music on the wireless. His smile widened when she entered, but the smile turned to a frown when she dragged a chair over to face him and laid her kits on the side table.

"Let's see your hands," she said.

"I took care of them," he said, not moving. "There are only a couple splinters that were deep and I am waiting for them to fester out."

"Let's see," persisted Terry.

"You are interrupting my music," admonished the Italian. "I am capable of taking care of my own hands."

"Yes, but you're still a man and that means you're stubborn, Caro. Give me your hands and I'll be quiet so you can hear your music."

He gave her a hard glare before rolling his eyes and holding out his right hand.

Terry kept silent and looked at the two small pustules on his palm. She laid his arm, palm upward on the arm of the chair. When he tried to pull it away, she grabbed the thick wrist and firmly placed it back on the chair arm. He gave the put-upon sigh she dared not laugh at. Instead, she cleaned her needle with alcohol and delicately pricked the two pustules. Next she wet a cotton ball with peroxide and dabbed them, earning her a sharp dirty look from the Italian before he closed his eyes and relaxed back, listening to the woodwinds on the radio. Holding his hand firmly, Terry gently slit the thin layer of flesh over the first splinter with the needle. This earned her another look of umbrage which she countered by removing a decent sized splinter and holding it up with the tweezers. Another sigh left the man and his eyes closed again, staying closed as she did the same to the other splinter. She coated the wounds with ointment and put some on the blister he had the sense enough to leave intact. As she rose and moved the chair over to the other side of him, dark eyes under drawn together eyebrows followed her. She smiled and said nothing.

His eyes closed again and he allowed her to give his left hand the same treatment. When she was finished, he spoke without opening his eyes. "I believe you enjoyed that."

"Tremendously," she replied in the same dry tone.

Terry put her chair back, gathered her things and stepped around the side of the big chair. Bending down, she placed a kiss on Actor's temple. His head tilted around and his eyes opened with one eyebrow raised.

"Is that a part of the treatment you administer to all the men?" he asked wryly.

"Only the ones who give me grief. And you're the only one to give me grief," she said airly. "By the way, nice woodwinds."

"At least you know they are woodwinds," he muttered quietly, closing his eyes again. They sprang open as her fingers lightly flicked the side of his head like she did with Casino. He gave her a narrow eyed glare with his best SS persona.

Terry gave him a pinch mouthed glare of her own. "I may be female, but I'm not stupid," she said, unfazed by his countenance which no longer frightened her . . . too often.

"I have never accused you of being stupid," he returned.

"Then watch your mouth," she warned. "You're beginning to sound like Casino."

"Now _you_ are getting insulting," countered the aristocratic man arrogantly.

Terry knew now that his arrogance was a cover to keep people at bay. The corner of her mouth twitched and her eyes darted to the closed door to the hall before her head dipped farther and she kissed him on the lips. She pulled back an inch and whispered, "My apologies, Sir."

Actor leaned forward and returned the kiss, leaning back the same distance and whispering, "Apology accepted . . . and returned." He shook his head. "Why don't you sit down. There is . . ." he glanced at his watch, "fifteen minutes left and I wish to hear this."

Terry straightened and went over to the table, laying her supplies on it and pulling out the chair again. If her brother and the other guys hadn't been in the house, she might have been tempted to plop herself in Actor's lap just to see his outraged reaction. At least she thought he might have an outraged reaction. Then again, he might not. She wasn't quite ready to find that out yet.

Almost promptly at 7 pm, the four cons and Terry met at the front door. Garrison had come to the open door to his office with his cigarette and watched the group. The men were dressed casually, but nicely. He was surprised to see Terry in a plaid skirt and thin, V-necked cream-colored pullover sweater. She glanced at him as he studied her attire.

"Hey, I don't have to climb out the upstairs window tonight," she said by way of explanation.

Craig just shook his head. He was aware of the many times his men thought they were sneaking out of the Mansion, and the occasional times Terry went with them. He didn't mind their breaking the house curfew rules as long as they kept their noses clean. And it seemed there were fewer fights and bail outs when his sister was along. He envied them their freedom to relax and unwind after the missions and wished he could join them sometimes. Oh, he had accompanied them on occasion, but rarely stayed long. They appeared to be okay with his presence, but he just felt that his being there put a constraint on their festivities. That and his officer's uniform put him at a station above the local clientele.

Garrison wondered about Terry's presence. Craig knew Casino could be counted on to disappear for a half hour or more with one of the barmaids. Goniff had been known to come up missing a time or two. Chief didn't seem to indulge very often. And Actor restricted his disappearing acts to London. So did Terry, Actor and Chief stay together while the other two wandered? If so, what did they talk about? Chief wasn't overly verbose and he was on polar ends of the education scale with the Italian. Terry fit in the middle of that scale somewhere, and probably more toward the con man's end. Craig was curious, but would never ask any of the three. It was funny how all five, his sister included in that, were so different from each other, yet, together, they blended into a formidable entity.

""Ey, Warden?" Goniff's voice broke through his reverie. "We've been walking for days," the pickpocket said with an exaggerated tone. "'Ow about letting us drive to the Doves? I mean seein' as we don't 'ave to bloody sneak over there tonight." Tact was not one of the Cockney's high points.

Garrison scanned five pair of eyes watching for his response. He let them cool their heels for a long moment. "You can take the jeep."

"Jeep?" objected Casino. "Five of us in a jeep?"

"Shut up, Casino," hissed the con man. Actor turned a pleasant smile toward Garrison. "That is most kind of you, Lieutenant."

"Get out of here before I change my mind," said Garrison sternly.

"We're goin', Warden. We're goin'," chattered Goniff, trying to move Casino toward the door.

Terry was chewing on her lower lip to keep from laughing. The two Garrisons locked eyes; the girl knowing what game her older brother was playing. Actor draped a jacket over the young woman's shoulders and escorted her toward the door. Terry followed the noisy two and Chief outside.

Actor paused and smiled knowingly at the blond officer. "Have a pleasant evening, Warden."

"Oh I intend to," replied Garrison.

"Who's drivin'?"

"I am!" Craig heard Terry's insistent voice as the door closed behind Actor, cutting off the conversation.

Garrison leaned against the doorjamb, a beatific smile on his face as his eyes scanned the empty foyer and common room. Silence . . . pure, sweet, delightful silence. He straightened and went into the library, studying the selection on the shelves until he found a book he had not read since he was a child. It was one he had seen Actor reading; a leather bound copy of Daniel Defoe's Robinson Crusoe. Satisfied, he went back to his office and stretched out on his couch with ankles crossed on the opposite arm. With a sigh of relief, Craig opened the book to the first page.

"I was born in the Year 1632, in the City of York, of a good Family . . ."


	3. Chapter 3

Splinters

Part 3

The interior of the Doves was warm, and filled with male voices and laughter, along with the occasional shout and clink of glasses. The air at the top of the stairs, just inside the blackout curtains was smoky and the group from the Mansion made their way down through the haze.

Robbie, the bartender, tall, thin to the point of skinny, with dark hair and a thin waxed mustache, looked up at the newcomers. He flashed a smile at the woman. "'Allo, Terry! 'Aven't seen you in awhile. 'Ow's your place doin'?"

"Busy as your's," replied Terry with a friendly grin.

"I 'ear you own 'alf the Fox now," Robbie tried to find out more about his competition.

"You heard right." Terry paused and leaned over the banister, allowing the guys to walk around her. "How do you think I can afford to come visit you?"

"So the drinks are on you then, are they?" teased Robbie.

"Nope. They're on Casino."

"Short night."

Terry laughed and continued down the stairs, skirting occupied tables to the empty one the boys had found in the back. She took a seat where she could see the entrance. Actor settled in a chair to her right, Chief on his right. Goniff pulled a chair close to Terry's left. Casino remained standing.

"What yuh drinkin' tonight, Babe?" the safecracker asked.

"Whatever you guys are," replied the girl.

Casino wound his way to the bar to place an order for five 'limey beers'. After he returned and the barmaid had brought their drinks. The conversation turned to something that had happened on the mission to Istanbul.

"'Ey, Terry," said Goniff. "Did the Warden really milk cows when you was growin' up?"

Terry looked at him and laughed. "How did you find that one out?"

"He milked one in a barn at one of the safe houses," said Casino.

"We live on a ranch. We're pretty self sufficient. We all take turns with the chores so we all know how to milk the cows, take care of the chickens, do everything involved with caring for the cattle and the horses. The only thing I wouldn't do was take care of the pigs."

Casino laughed. "Too smelly for you?"

"No, don't like the boars. One of them attacked me. They're mean. That was the end of us girls going into the pig pen."

"The Warden slopped pigs?" asked the safecracker in disbelief.

"He took his turn," admitted Terry. "What? You think he was born at West Point?"

"The Warden is a man of many talents," said Actor diplomatically.

"You can say that again, Mate," said Goniff.

Terry kept a casual eye on the door and saw when the blackout curtain parted and two young women entered. Curly haired Meg Schaeffer and her blonde friend, Janet, paused at the top of the steps and looked around. Terry raised an arm high and waved. The men at the table looked at her and followed her gaze to the two women.

"Bloody 'ell, there's Meg!" exclaimed Goniff with delight. "'Ow'd she know we was here?"

"I may have mentioned it in passing when I talked to her on the phone this afternoon," said Terry, taking a sip of warm ale.

"Good on you, Terry," said the Cockney gratefully. He pushed away from the table and rose, picking up his glass. "You'll 'ave to excuse me, Blokes," said Goniff. "I think I'll just find someplace a little quieter."

Casino had been eyeing the blonde as the two girls walked down the stairs. "Hey, Limey, what are you gonna do with two dames?"

"Well, come on then, Casino," said Goniff cheerfully. "The other one's yours."

Not needing a second invitation, the safecracker picked up his glass and followed Goniff over to the two girls.

"Ah," sighed Actor. "So much for our free drinks."

"The rest are on me," said Terry with a chuckle, watching the two men and the two girls take a table far enough away for them not to be overheard.

Goniff gave Meg a peck on the cheek. Casino seemed to be very polite and attentive to Janet.

"She safe with him?" drawled Chief quietly.

"Oh sure," replied Terry. "Janet's got claws. Casino might get to first base, but he'll never make it to home plate."

Chief grinned and Actor shook his head at the uncouthness of that statement.

"Playing matchmaker now?" the con man asked Terry.

"Just Meg and Goniff. Face it, they need some friendly assistance." She grinned. "Casino's on his own."

"He don't need any help," said Chief with quiet conviction.

Terry was sorry she couldn't have gotten Christine down here, but that might have been pushing it. The young Indian and her sister needed to take things in their own sweet time. She had faith in them both.

The con man, the wheelman, and the Warden's sister remained at the table, sipping ale, Actor smoking his pipe, and all three engaged in restful conversation amongst themselves. After a bit, Chief talked Terry into a game of darts. After the first couple throws, Chief began to teach the girl how to throw under handed like he did instead of the more conventional over hand.

Actor leaned back in his chair and watched the two, or more specifically, Teresa. It was good to rest after the hard two weeks they had just spent on the Continent. It was even better watching Teresa, happy and laughing at her clumsiness with the darts. Actor realized now how much he would have missed the young woman if she had left them as it appeared she could have. He had been concerned the rapport that had developed between them had been permanently damaged by his previous encouragement of her to quit the team. It was something that, at first, seemed to be best for her, and he was okay with that. He thought. The month she was gone to Scotland and the con he had been forced to pull without her had made him realize he felt more for her than just protectiveness for the Lieutenant's sister. _That_ he felt toward Christine. Teresa was something entirely different.

Two Englishmen approached Chief and Terry. Actor could not hear the conversation, but watched Teresa smile and indicate with her hand that Chief should go with them. He ambled over to a table with two other men, while Terry made her way back to the table with Actor. He rose and held her chair for her, then took his. Terry took a sip of her ale.

"They have a friend visiting from Manchester, who is supposed to be an ace at darts," explained Terry. She grinned wolfishly. "Chief ought to make some money off this one. Or at least find a better opponent than I am."

"I am sure with time and practice you will become a worthy opponent," assured the con man.

"I just have to get used to throwing it like a switchblade," said Terry, watching Chief and the other man collect the darts and clean the scoreboard off.

Terry stole a glance at the Italian. It looked like she might have him to herself for a bit. Actor was smoking his pipe in a relaxed pose. She wanted to talk with him. Something had been on her mind for a long time now and the somewhat noisy pub was not conducive to the conversation she wished to have.

"Would you like to step outside for a bit and get some fresh air?" she broached.

Actor looked at her, wondering what was up. If he used that line with a woman it was to find a nice secluded spot for a little kissing and petting. It was not something he expected Teresa to initiate. He was curious.

"If you would like," he answered.

Teresa smiled and nodded. Actor thought that smile would have worked well on a con. Something was up. It should be interesting. He pushed his chair back and stood, pipe in his left hand, right hand going out to her. She rose with her hand in his and led the way through the curtains and down the back hall to the door that opened onto the little patio used for lunches in summertime.

They stepped out into almost silence compared to the interior of the pub. The air had a mild chill to it. The faint sounds of night birds and insects gradually made their presence known. The tall man followed the young woman as she walked slowly across the slate patio floor to the low stone wall framed on the left by vines with new leaves unfurling. Teresa rested her hands on the edge of the wall and looked out into the darkness. Actor stepped up beside her and took a puff on his pipe, waiting for her to tell him what this was about. As was her way, she came to the point.

"I wanted to ask you about what you said to me in the gazebo before I went to Scotland and in the library afterwards," she started.

Actor said nothing. Standing beside her, gazing into the darkness too, he waited.

"You said you trusted me. I assume you meant with the con." She paused, gathering herself. "Was that true? Or was it part of a game to get me to go along with leaving the group?"

Actor sighed. She had given him the opportunity to lie to her and retreat behind the wall he kept between him and others. For a fraction of a second, he was tempted. It was the safe thing to do . . . the prudent thing . . . so he had to be out of his mind.

"I trust you," he said slowly, in a low voice. "I trust you as a partner in the con . . . and as a . . . friend." It was hard to admit that, but now that the words had been spoken, it was strangely freeing.

Teresa turned and looked up at him. He could barely make out her features in the dim light of a partial moon. She seemed to be attempting to study his features.

"I trust you, Actor," she said softly. "I trust you as a partner in the con and I trust you with the lives of my brothers and my sister." She reached a hand up to rest lightly on his upper arm. "I was so very afraid I had ruined things between us." She moistened her lips and sucked on the lower one for a moment, gathering courage to go on. "I thought you didn't care anything about me and you wanted to get rid of me. Craig had hurt me and I thought you were too."

Actor closed his eyes and laid his pipe on the top of the wall, resting his hand on the cold solid rock.

Terry spoke again. "I had time to think on the train ride to Scotland. I decided you would not have tried to make me leave if you were not . . . concerned . . . about me." She looked down, afraid because he wasn't saying anything. "I trust you. I trust you with my life."

_Caro Dio! _"You should be very careful _trusting _me," he said slowly. "I might not be worthy of that trust."

The woman's head tipped back and she peered up at him. Her face was hidden in the shadows so he could not see her expression as she could not see his.

"Why?"

He had lost his mind. He was sure of it now. "This is why." His hands lifted to cup her face, thumbs gently grazing her cheekbones. He bent his head and captured her lower lip between his. He kissed her, softly, but thoroughly . . . and she didn't pull back. Instead, he felt her hands slide around to the sides of his waist, beneath his jacket, as she moved closer to him. He broke the kiss and looked away, sucking on his cheek, stunned by what he had just done and the feelings it had evoked in him.

"Was that supposed to scare me?" asked Teresa, hands remaining on his waist. She realized with surprise his barriers were down.

"Yes!" he said sharply. "At the very least give you caution."

He watched her head bow. "Um," was all that came in response. Her head bent back, she rose on tiptoes, and her right hand came out from under his jacket and up behind his neck. He seemed unable to resist as she guided his head down and she stretched to reach him. He wanted her kiss, sank into it in fact as she returned it with the same softness and thoroughness as his. This time she was the one to pull back.

"Now we've both been cautioned," she whispered.

The sound of the door opening caused both their heads to jerk around. Hands dropped away and they stepped back from each other. Actor picked up his pipe and Terry smoothed her skirt down unnecessarily.

"Are you sure nobody is out here?"

"I don't know where Actor and Terry are, but they probably aren't out here." It was Casino.

"Yeah, we are," said Terry, pasting a smile on her face.

She and Actor strolled casually forward. Casino grinned at them crookedly.

"Did we interrupt something?" asked the safecracker snidely.

"Of course not," replied Actor in a bored voice.

"It was warm in there," said Terry matter-of-factly. "So we came out to cool off."

"That what you call it now?" laughed Casino.

Before Actor could answer, Terry shook her head. "I dragged him out here and thought we could neck a little."

That got a bigger laugh out of the safecracker. "Good luck with that, Babe. You ain't his type."

"A girl can but try," she with fake wistfulness.

"Well, we came out for some privacy," said Casino boldly.

There was a gasp of amusement and not quite shock from Janet.

"Casino!" admonished Actor.

Terry looked at Janet. "He's pushy," she warned.

"I see that," replied the woman.

"But he's harmless," added Terry, moving away.

"Thanks a lot!" sputtered Casino.

Actor laughed, stepping ahead of Teresa to get the door for her.

"Have fun, Kids," Terry gave a parting shot.

"More fun than you two."

"He always has to get the last word in," lamented Terry as the door closed behind her and Actor.

The two made their way slowly down the hall back toward the main room of the pub. Actor looked down at Teresa with a calculating smile of approval.

"You handled that very well," he said.

"I would hope so," said Terry. She smiled. "I learned from the very best." She eyed him, watching his expression change to its usual inscrutableness. "Don't clam up on me again," she said softly, slipping her had into his.

Actor squeezed it tightly before letting go. "It is very difficult for me, Cara," he admitted.

"I know," replied Terry.

They entered the main room as though nothing unusual had happened between them and took their seats again. Actor looked around. Meg and Goniff were still sitting at the table they had procured, heads together, chattering away. Chief was at the dart board, pulling darts from the bulls-eye. That game would not last long. The Italian's eyes moved to Teresa. She was sitting comfortably in her chair, gazing around the room. The woman picked up her glass and drained the last dregs of ale from it.

"Would you care for another glass?" asked Actor.

Terry looked at her empty one and his almost empty one. "Yes, I can manage another one." When Actor started to rise from his chair, she put her hand out. "No, sit." She smiled at him. "I meant it before. This one is on me."

"Teresa . . .," he started to protest.

"I can afford to buy a round," she cut him off.

They were both trying to act normal and it was difficult, as much for Terry as for the con man. Terry stood up and smiled at Actor. She wound her way over to the table with Goniff and Meg.

"You two need a refill?" she asked.

Bright smiles looked up at her. "Sure, Love. You buyin'?" asked Goniff.

"Yup. I mean Casino sure isn't," she grinned back.

"Terry?" said Meg. "Thank you." She didn't mean the drinks.

Terry smiled. "Any time."

Weaving her way around tables to the bar, she had to wait for Robbie to finish with two large orders. Terry turned to face the room, leaning back against the bar. Her eyes sought out the Italian. He had put his pipe away and was lighting a cigarette. Taking a couple puffs to get it started, Actor leaned back and put the lighter back in the inside jacket pocket, his face closing over in the inscrutable look he hid behind, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

Terry wondered if what had transpired on the patio had affected him too. She was finding it very hard to act as though nothing had happened. Their kissing in itself was not unusual. They did it all the time, to Craig's exasperation, only this had been different. She knew she was developing feelings for the man she shouldn't have, but was it reciprocated? That she hadn't expected and really wasn't sure. It was as Casino had said so succinctly, she wasn't Actor's type. Her reverie was interrupted by Robbie coming up behind her to take her order.

Actor carefully watched the girl leave the bar in a meandering route back to the table. What on earth was the matter with him? She was fifteen years younger than him. She wore pants and she could hold her own on a mission. However, there was still a softness, a gentleness about her. She had learned elegance from him when she needed it. And she seemed unfazed by his age. Was it lust on his part? No, that could be easily remedied by any number of women in England who would happily come to his beck and call. As she neared the table, he shoved the thoughts to the back of his mind and put a smile on his face.

Terry looked at the Italian as she took her seat. Con. She realized with a start that she was beginning to tell the nuances of his con and that smile was a part of it. She allowed the same smile to grace her face, watching the corner of his mouth turn up as he recognized she was mimicking him.

Chief returned to the table with a full glass of ale and took his seat again. The barmaid was right behind him with two more glasses. The three toasted each other and took sips.

"So was your little endeavor profitable?" asked Actor.

Chief nodded. "You mean did I win? Well, don't think it would be too healthy to go to Manchester anytime soon," he drawled.

This brought chuckles from the other two.

Terry grinned. "You leave him enough to get home on?"

"Don't know. Didn't ask."

Actor decided it would be prudent to be extra careful when they left the bar. The young Indian never seemed to be concerned about fighting anyone, but a group of drunken men might be a different story.

Terry, in the meantime, was eyeing the said young Indian thoughtfully. "Chiefy, I am about to ask you an inappropriate question."

Chief shot her a startled look. "I ain't sleepin' with your sister," he said defiantly.

Actor had just taken a healthy sip of ale and came close to choking on it. He cleared his throat instead.

"I know," said Terry, unconcerned. "I asked her."

The con man set his beer down for his own safety.

"I was wondering," said Teresa, "what are you doing with your winnings and your take of the safes?"

"That is an inappropriate question, Teresa," interjected the Italian.

"I know," repeated Terry looking at the younger man. If he didn't want to answer she wouldn't pursue it.

Chief shrugged. He trusted Actor and Terry . . . maybe the other two not so much. "What I don't lose back to Casino playin' cards is in a safe place."

"Kinda what I thought," admitted Terry. She turned her attention to the confidence man. "You think a little general lesson in – uh – global economics might be in order?" she broached.

Actor thought about it and gave a nod. "If the parties are interested . . ."

Chief's eyes darted between the two, an expression of cautious curiosity on his face. He didn't understand what they were saying, even if it was English, but he wasn't going to let them know that.

Terry smiled at him. "My financial advisor . . .," she gestured toward Actor, "has helped me with banking and investments and I'm making an obscene pile of money."

Chief grinned as Actor shook his head. "Casino said he heard you bought half the Fox," said Chief questioningly.

Actor's eyes sought out Teresa's with raised eyebrows.

The girl shrugged. "I was getting a little too much in the Brandonshire account, so I thought I would dabble in real estate."

Due to location, it was probably a good investment, if one were into becoming a publican, which he was not, thought Actor. "We will see if either of the other two is interested," he said. "I would be happy to offer some advice and assistance if you would like, Chief."

"He's good," added Terry.

"Of course I'm good," said Actor indignantly.

Terry's eyes rolled skyward. "I know - you're good at everything."

"Yes, I am."

Chief grinned. He had learned in London watching these two playing off each other was fun.

Last orders was called to the patrons of the pub. Actor excused himself and rose from the table with the excuse of using the men's room. He stepped over to the table where Casino and Goniff were sitting with the two girls. Bending down between the two men, he said in a very low voice they needed to keep a head's up when they left the bar.

"Chief piss somebody off?" asked Casino seriously.

"Quite possibly," replied Actor.

He straightened and continued on to the men's room. When he returned, the four cons and three women made their way to the door. Partway up the stairs, Terry caught Robbie's eye and frowned, giving a subtle turn of her head to the room behind him. Robbie nodded, continuing to dry a glass and watch the room.

Casino and Goniff hurried the two young women toward their car, while the other three crossed the parking area at a slower pace.

"Hey . . . Chief," a belligerent slurred voice made the name sound like a derogatory remark. "I think you owe us some money."

With a disgusted sigh, Chief stopped and turned back. Terry stopped to the side of him, giving his throwing arm plenty of room. Actor stood beside her.

"Go," whispered the con man to the woman.

"Not hardly," whispered Terry back with determination, her right hand reaching into her purse.

The four Englishmen were bunched together, the one in front being the Manchester man. They took a step forward, clearly under the impression they would have no trouble dealing with the Americans.

The switchblade slipped into Chief's hand and opened with an audible snick. Beside him, a second snick was heard, followed by a third on the other side of the girl. Terry contained their surprise at the third sound.

Actor took a half step forward as the Englishmen stopped short. "Gentlemen, you were beaten fairly at darts. You are owed nothing. It would be in your best interest to allow us to leave peacefully."

The four men looked at the dark skinned American who had handled the darts with such skill, the woman with the evil grin on her face, and the tall, suddenly powerful appearing Italian and wondered if they might just have made a mistake in their thinking.

"You 'eard the man," said Robbie standing behind the group with a cudgel. "The coppers 'as been called. Now why don't you lads go 'ome and sleep it off."

Casino and Goniff herded the two girls into their car and watched them drive off. When they were satisfied the girls were safely away, they turned back to the see if it was going to turn into a fight. The other patrons of the pub were either hanging back inside the doorway, or scooting off along the sides of the building.

"Aw forget it," said the Manchester man in disgust. "Yanks think they can just come in 'n take right over."

"Well, these Yanks are welcome in the Doves anytime they want," said Robbie. "You lads are not."

"Go to the jeep," said Actor in a bare whisper to Teresa.

"All together," said Terry a bit louder so Chief could hear.

Together, the three backed up, eyes never leaving their opponents. The four men stayed where they were. When they were close to the now running jeep, they turned and moved unhurriedly to it.

"Teresa . . .," Actor's voice held anger.

"Speakeasy lower west side of New York, remember?" Terry cut him off. "I know what I'm doing."

She deliberately moved to the back of the jeep allowing Chief to pick her up and deposit her in Goniff's care while he jumped in. Actor took the front passenger seat beside Casino who was at the wheel. Just as deliberately, the safecracker drove off at a slow speed.

Terry leaned into Chief and whispered in his ear. "Actor really any good with that thing?"

"Close up? Yeah," replied Chief. "He's probably a little better than the Warden. "I'm still teachin' him to throw."

"Blimey, Chief," called out Goniff above the wind from the open jeep. "You keep this up and nobody's gonna play darts with you."

The Indian shrugged.

By some unspoken agreement, the five entered the Mansion as though nothing untoward had occurred. Terry headed for her bedroom before the Italian could revive his anger at her for standing her ground with them against the Brits.


	4. Chapter 4

Splinters

Chapter 4

Garrison sat at his desk and looked at the piles of paperwork in front of him. He idly doodled on the top of the paper he was taking notes on. Sometimes analyzing raw intelligence was interesting. This wasn't one of those times. It didn't help matters any this was the first nice warm day of the year. His shirtsleeves were rolled up his forearms and the top two buttons of his shirt were open. A gentle spring breeze blew through the open window at his back, ruffling the curtain behind the tied back blackout drape. It was much more entertaining listening to his men in the yard below the window.

"Hey, Terry's workin' tonight. How 'bout we sneak in to the Fox?"

There was a 'thunking' sound for a bit, followed by a "Blimey".

"And how do you propose we do this?"

"Sneak out the window and borrow the Packard," was the pat reply.

"Merde." It was said with resigned disgust.

"It ain't like we never done it before."

There was another thunk, followed by another British curse before the cultured voice continued. "Casino, your bad ideas are surpassed only by your bad grammar."

"Yeah, well, if you're gonna get insultin' about it, you can just stay here."

"Someone must be along to try to keep you out of the stockade."

"I can keep myself outta the stockade without your help," the safecracker retorted.

"Sure, Casino."

"Hey!" said a fourth voice. "You gonna sit and argue or throw that baseball."

"Keep your shorts on, Geronimo," growled Casino.

The conversations ceased and the only sounds were the 'thunking' and a higher pitched slapping sound. Garrison grinned and shook his head. He wondered if he should warn his sister, but decided she could find out about her predicted patrons the hard way. At least she was usually successful at keeping them out of too much trouble.

As though conjured up by his thoughts, Terry wandered into his office and sprawled into the chair next to his desk. She eyed the pile of papers that didn't appear to have diminished any. Loud male voices carried in through the open window in opposition to the clean scent of spring.

"How can you work with that racket?" she asked.

"Oh, I like listening to that racket," said Craig with a sly grin. "They don't know the acoustics are so good up here. I learn a lot listening to them when they don't know I can hear them."

"Sneaky," chuckled Terry.

Two voices grew louder. Goniff was teasing and baiting and calling someone names. There was also the 'thunking' sound. As the voices got closed, a loud, indignant one protested the way Goniff was playing. The voice had an Italian accent, a little higher pitch than normal and was followed by a string of Italian expletives.

Terry sat up straighter and shot a surprised look at Garrison. "That's not Casino, that's Actor!"

Craig grinned broadly. "Go look. You won't believe it."

Terry got up and went to stand behind the drapes, pulling one of the curtains back a little to look out over the sprawling back lawn. Goniff was jumping about teasing and egging his opponent on. The sight that caught Terry's attention was the totally undignified Actor. He was bouncing a soccer ball off his knees and feet. The man's hair was in disarray, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the front unbuttoned halfway down. The white shirt was wrinkled and dirty, as was Goniff's. Terry watched as Actor bounced the ball into the air and hit it with the top of his head, sending it flying over Goniff.

"Bloody 'ell, Actor!" yelled Goniff, running to chase down the ball. The Italian laughed heartily after him.

Terry pulled back into the room, turning to her amused brother with a look of surprise on her face. "I don't believe it."

"Told you," said Garrison. "They were driving me nuts with their whining about how bored they were, so I requisitioned some baseballs and footballs. I figured it would give them exercise too; maybe wear them out a little bit. Goniff wanted a soccer ball, so I got one. Come to find out, Actor's absolutely passionate about soccer."

Terry took her seat back. "I didn't think that man was passionate about anything except sexy women."

"He gets a little drooly over antiques too."

The game was still going on when Terry walked a wide berth around them to try to find more gardening tools in the abandoned stable. As she skirted around dusty debris and ducked under dangling cobwebs, she listened with amusement to the yelling and shouts of the men. Chief and Casino had joined in the game, neither of them knowing how to play. She found a shovel, a hoe, a rake and a cultivator in the corner of a stall and loaded them across her arms.

She was partway across the lawn, again skirting the game, when she heard Goniff urgently yell her name. Terry looked up in time to see the soccer ball making a rapid decent towards her. Gripping her tools tightly, she gave a hop to hit the ball with the top of her head like she thought the men had been doing. The tools dropped from her arms and her hands flew to the top of her head as pain exploded. She held her head tightly, her loud moan accompanied by the even louder male laughter.

Laughing heartily, Actor trotted up to the girl, followed more slowly by the other three men. He clasped her shoulders and pulled her to him.

"Come here, Little One," he chuckled.

Terry found herself leaning her forehead against his damp chest, surprised when he pulled her hands away and kissed the tender spot.

"That is supposed to make it better, I am told," he continued to laugh.

"You're not my mother," retorted Terry.

"I most certainly hope not," chortled Actor.

Casino had heard that exchange on his approach and could not resist slinging one back at the con man. "If he was he'd be the ugliest mother . . ."

"Casino!" two voices spoke together, the higher pitched one in outrage and the deeper one in warning.

The safecracker grinned and leaned a forearm on Goniff's shoulder.

"She all right?" yelled Garrison from the window of his office.

"Yes, Warden," Actor called back.

"I don't know how you do that," lamented Terry, straightening and rubbing the top of her head again.

"We grew up doin' it, didn't we Actor?" chirped Goniff. "We started when we was kids."

"Beautiful was never a kid," declared Casino with a shake of his head.

"Probably true," Terry played along, "but he does have a hard head."

"Thank you, Cara," said Actor indignantly. "And I was trying to be solicitous to you."

"You was tryin' to solicit her?" teased the pickpocket.

"Goniff!"

Garrison shook his head and went back to his paperwork.

Terry worked in the garden for the next hour. The onion sets were doing nicely. She wished the box of seeds would arrive from Montana. It should be here soon. Terry couldn't wait to get the seeds in the ground and have fresh vegetables without having to fight for them at the farm market.

It was close to noon when she heard the ball games come to an end and the men's voices fade away. That meant it was time to get lunch ready for the group. Terry leaned her hoe against the chicken fence. A quick study of the clucking brood inside the enclosure brought a Cheshire cat smile to the girl's face. Soon now, very soon . . .

The lunch dishes had been cleared away when Terry entered the common room to pick up empty glasses and teacups before starting washing the dishes. The phone rang and Terry answered it before Craig could pick it up.

"Miss Garrison? This is 'Arry at the post office. You got some packages from the States here. They're too 'eavy to deliver."

"She sent them regular mail?" asked Terry rhetorically. "Okay, I'll come in and get them."

"Uh, Miss, you best be bringin' one o' the lads with you. They're 'eavy."

Terry smiled in amusement. How heavy could packets of seeds be? "Okay, thank you, Harry. I'll be by in a bit."

She hung up the phone and turned to the men sitting behind her. Casino looked bored. Chief was playing chess with himself. Goniff was playing solitaire, and Actor was in the library.

"Hey, Casino, want to come to town with me. The packages of seeds came to the post office. Harry seems to think I won't be able to pick them up."

"How many seeds did Cinder send you?" laughed Craig from his office.

"I don't know," replied Terry. "I just told her I was feeding at least six of us and to send what she could."

Casino tossed his cards on the table. "Yeah, I'll go with you, Babe. Come on."

G

Terry hit the horn a good blast as she pulled the jeep to a stop at the base of the steps to the mansion. She grinned at Casino's laughing face.

"Boy, the Warden's gonna love this one," chortled the safecracker.

"I can't wait to find out what she packed in them," said Terry.

They got out of the jeep and went to stand on either side of the boxes that were wedged crookedly into the back. Craig trotted down the steps first, curiosity written all over his face at the sight of the pile of boxes. Actor followed a bit more sedately, to be passed by Goniff with his usual bounce. Chief brought up the rear.

"What did your sister do?" asked Craig, scratching the back of his head.

"My sister?" laughed Terry. "She's your sister."

"Okay," said Craig with a sigh. "Take a box."

The five men each took a box and hefted it, starting back up the steps.

"I swear all these are as heavy as that water heater jet engine you made us lug all over France," grunted Casino to the Lieutenant.

"Naw, can't be, Mate," said Goniff. "Nothin' was a 'eavy as that piece of junk."

Terry followed them slowly up the steps. "I think I'm glad I missed that one," she said.

"You'd a loved it," said Casino. "Actor made a great corpse. Best acting job he's done."

"Thank you for that wonderful critique of my performance," said Actor sarcastically.

Craig couldn't resist the opportunity, knowing his sister would have to come out with something. "He made a good monk too."

"Monk?" asked Terry. "As in man of the cloth, chaste, abstinent . . . HIM?" She blurted out.

Actor's head turned sharply toward her in indignation, causing him to almost miss a step. It brought laughter from the others and a twinkling-eyed grin from Terry.

The boxes were wrestled into the house and set on the floor by the game table. Terry pulled up a chair and flicked her switchblade open to cut through the tape sealing the boxes shut. Craig pulled out a chair and sat to watch. Goniff was peering over Terry's shoulder. Chief sat at the table. Casino stood by Terry's right elbow. Even Actor could not contain his curiosity and was resting his arm on Garrison's shoulder, leaning forward to see into the first box.

The top layer of carefully folded newspaper was removed.

"The Cut Bank Press?" asked Craig hopefully.

"Yeah," answered Terry, looking for the date. "And it's only a month old." She tossed it to her brother, who placed it reverently on the table. Terry's eyes widened with surprised delight. "Oh, Cinder, you are an angel!" she exclaimed. "No wonder it's heavy. There are five pound bags of flour in here." She started pulling the bags out of the boxes and handing them to Casino who in turn handed them around to Garrison to put on the table. A large taped paper shopping bag contained the seeds for the garden, but there was more. "Peanut butter!" shrieked Terry, pulling out two jars of the treat.

"Peanut butter toast!" said Casino with uncharacteristic enthusiasm.

Terry kept digging. There were bags of dried beans and tomatoes and fruit. Two tins of real coffee got almost the same reaction as the peanut butter. Smaller bags contained herbs and spices that Terry had been sadly lacking. Another bag held last year's dried chili peppers. There were small tins of chocolate bars, a bottle of honey, and cakes of yeast. Another heavy bag was wrapped in a muslin dishtowel. Terry opened it and gave another shriek.

"Five pounds of sugar!"

"Can't be," said Craig. "Where would she get that much sugar?"

"I don't know," replied Terry. She handed her brother an envelope. "Here's a letter."

"That musta cost a fortune," remarked Casino, shaking his head at the pile of foodstuffs on the table.

"The postage alone would be terrible," added Actor.

Craig read the letter and chuckled. "Ma had her hand in this too. What have you been telling her about us?" he wanted to know. "And how did you get it past the censors?"

"I just said how difficult it is to feed five grown active men on what we get in rations and what I can get off the Black Market. I send the letters out through Chris and I write the ones to Ma in French or Italian. Why?"

Craig handed the letter to her. "She wants to be sure 'all the boys' are well fed."

"Well, this will help," said Terry.

Later that afternoon, Garrison was locked in his office with paperwork and Terry was tearing the kitchen apart, rearranging cabinet contents to accommodate the new supplies. Actor quietly called a conference around the upstairs game table. They all leaned in and listened quietly to the confidence man.

"Gentlemen, Mrs. Garrison and her daughter have been extraordinarily generous to us. I for one intend to write a letter to them expressing my appreciation of their generosity." His eyes swept the table with significance.

"So you think we should all write a letter to them?" asked Goniff.

"I think it would be the polite thing to do," said Actor.

The men all retired to their rooms and sat down at their desks with paper and writing instruments. For some the letter writing was easy; for others not quite so easy or downright difficult.

Actor rested his cigarette in the ashtray by his left hand. He contemplated the blank piece of fine linen writing paper in front of him and smiled. He recalled a much earlier conversation with the Lieutenant who had mentioned his mother spoke fluent Italian and French to the kids and Teresa had mentioned her letters to her mother were sometimes in Italian. With a fountain pen and in his flowery handwriting, he began: Gentili Signora Garrison e Signorina Cinder . . .

Casino looked at the blank piece of writing paper in front of him. Jeez, how did somebody go about writing to the Warden's mother? He wasn't any good at formal stuff. Well, what the heck, Mrs. Garrison was still a mother, so he would write to her like he wrote to his ma.

Goniff had the least trouble. He had automatically come to the conclusion he would write to Mrs. Garrison like he would his mum. Anyone who was the mother of the Warden and Terry and Chris had to be a nice lady.

Chief sat with a frown on his face. Reading and writing were not things he did well. Oh, it was getting better, what with Actor secretly teaching him, but what would Mrs. Garrison think of him? His handwriting was illegible, so he decided to print it. It took him five tries. Though his was the shortest letter written, it was the last one to be handed over to Actor to present to the Warden.

The next morning, Actor entered Garrison's office with a tidy bundle of sealed letters and presented them to the young officer. Craig took them with raised eyebrows.

"We would appreciate these being included in your next posting to your dear mother. That is if you do not object to our communicating with your mother and sister," said the con man. "However, I might suggest the post go out via Christine."

Both were aware Garrison was required by the army to read and censor all of the cons' mail before posting. Craig looked at the bundle in his hand and slowly picked up a manila envelope from his desk, slipping the letters, undisturbed, inside.

"I think that can be arranged," said Craig.

GGGGG

A month later, the front door opened and the tall blond woman hurried in from the cold, laying the stack of mail on the table beside the door before removing her damp stained Stetson and hanging it on the coat tree. She shrugged out of her heavy sheepskin-lined jacket, hanging it below the hat. Cinder picked up the mail and headed for the warmth of the kitchen. She sat down at the table and pushed the bills and other letters to one side, keeping the large stuffed envelope in front of her as a cup of steaming barley coffee was placed by her. Cinder pushed her blonde hair back and slit the top of the envelope with the buck knife that was strapped to her jean covered hip. It was raining again as usual for this time of the year in Montana. She was grateful for the excuse to sit by the warmth of the big AGA wood cook stove.

Josie Garrison, hair still dark, figure still slim in a shirtwaist striped dress, despite being the mother of six grown children, was just finishing cleaning her stove top. She looked forward to any missives from her children in Europe. She had long since given up trying to understand why her two youngest girls and teen-aged son had gone to a war zone, let along stayed there doing who knew what kind of dangerous work.

"A big one from England this time," remarked Cinder, taking a sip of coffee to warm her insides.

She dumped the envelope open end down, eyes widening in surprise at the number of letters that landed on the table. Cinder started laying the letters out separately, her attention drawn to four of them addressed to 'Mrs. Garrison and Cinder' in unfamiliar handwriting.

"Hey, Ma, look at this will you?" said the oldest Garrison girl.

Josie wiped her hands on her apron and sat down across the table corner from her daughter. Curiously, she picked up one of the letters and opened it. Her eyes went first to the signature.

"This one is from a 'Chief'." Said Josie was a smile. She read the letter slowly. The sentiment was polite and appreciative of the food and supplies sent to England, but the grammar, spelling and printing were those of a child or illiterate person. It was very curious.

"This one is signed 'Goniff'," said Cinder. "That a name or what is it?"

"I believe it is Yiddish for 'thief', dear," replied Josie.

Cinder looked up under raised eyebrows. "Craig's hoods?" she asked in disbelief.

"It would seem so," replied Josie in interest, picking up another letter.

Cinder read the one she had and had to grin. "This Goniff sounds like a cute bugger. He says he really likes the chocolate and peanut butter."

Josie chuckled softly. "I don't know a boy who doesn't like sweets."

"He writes funny," said Cinder. "Everything's got an extra 'u' in it." She held the letter out for her mother to see.

"That's British," said Josie. She opened the next letter and looked for the signature. "This is from 'Casino'."

"Don't these people have names?" asked Cinder skeptically.

"I don't know, dear. Maybe it's code. Craig is doing Special Forces. Maybe they don't use their real names."

The letter from Casino was very polite and nicely worded. The lack of education was not as blatant as the previous letter.

Cinder opened the last letter and stared at it. "Uh, Ma, I don't think these are 'boys'. You have to see the handwriting on this one. And it's in Italian."

That caught Josie's attention. She held her hand out eagerly. The only time she received letters in Italian was when Terry was writing something about Craig or the rare one received from her sister in Italy. The handwriting on the sheet of linen writing paper was script-like and flowing. As Josie read the formal Italian her mouth curled up in a smile of delight. The letter was longer than the others. This man started off thanking them for the precious packages and how much the contents were being enjoyed and would enhance their daily lives with the rationing in England. He went on to say what a dedicated and accomplished officer Lt. Garrison was. From there he mentioned what lovely young women Teresa and Christine were and for her to rest assured the men were all looking out for the safety and well-being of both when they were with them. He told her what a wonderful job she had done raising such fine children. He hoped she and her daughter were well and that sending so many wonderful food items had not inconvenienced them too much, but to rest assured their efforts were greatly appreciated.

"This one is definitely not a boy," said the older woman. "Very European . . . very well-educated. Your sister is not Terry, she is 'Teresa'." Josie gave the name the same Italian pronunciation the confidence man did. "And Chris is 'Christine'."

"What's this one's name?" asked Cinder, surprised at the animation on her mother's face.

"Actor," Josie replied. "He could be one, stage maybe, the way he uses his words. Or old world aristocracy," she mused. "His wording is eloquent and his handwriting is almost script."

"Can't be," Cinder shook her head, not buying it. "They're all hoods."

"Now, dear, just because they have broken the law does not necessarily mean they are not educated," admonished Josie.

It would be another month before a packet of letters arrived in England. Josie had written a note to each of the men, but the one to Actor was a little longer than the rest and in Italian. Terry and Craig kept curious eyes on the con man. He sat in his chair, puffing on his pipe and reading the missive with a smile on his face. After reading the letter, Actor looked up at the siblings.

"Your mother is a very gracious lady," he said.

"Yes, she is," agreed Garrison.

Craig went back in his office to read his letter and Terry followed him.

"Damn," said Craig quietly impressed, "he got to Ma too and she's never laid eyes on him."

Terry muffled a laugh. "That's Actor . . ."


	5. Chapter 5

Splinters

Part 5

Terry looked up and eyed the table where the cons were sitting. At least they were being quiet - for them. She would have to have a talk with her brother. When she was leaving the Mansion earlier that evening to come to work at the bar, he had smiled smugly and told her to have fun. Now she understood why. He had apparently found out the guys were going to sneak out to the bar tonight. Oh, well, as long as they didn't break anything or anybody, she was okay with it. It allowed them to let off some steam and kept the fighting and bickering at the Mansion down to a dull roar.

Casino had been hitting on a young woman from the Brandonshire Bank for the last few weeks. They had been meeting at the Doves and here. Right now she was sitting on the safecracker's lap exchanging kisses with him as she had for the past hour. As usual for Casino's taste, this one was a curvaceous blonde. Terry mused this one was a bit unusual in that she had to have some brains to be working in a bank. Most of Casino's conquests didn't have a lot between the ears. Terry quickly stifled a thought that maybe the safecracker was hitting her up for information so he could pull a bank heist. Naw, he wouldn't do that so close to home.

Usually the blonde was alone, but tonight she had a friend with her; a petite, bubbly, dark-haired girl Terry had not seen before. Terry wondered if that one would go home with Goniff. At least Casino was sharing the wealth with his Cockney friend.

Terry poured a gin and tonic for a local man, emptying the gin bottle, and realized Kit had not left her with a full backup bottle. That meant a trip to the basement. The little storage area behind the barroom did not hold everything they stocked and for some reason the gin was downstairs. After a quick glance around to make sure her patrons looked happy for the moment, she disappeared behind the curtain to the back. It was another ten minutes before she returned with two full bottles of Boodles. One she placed under the bar and the other received a clean spout before filling the vacant space on the glass shelf behind her.

Taking a glance around the room again, she frowned when she saw two of the men were missing from the cons' table. Pouring two beers from the tap, Terry ambled over to the table that Chief and Goniff were at and set the glasses in front of them.

"Where'd the other two disappear to?" she asked.

"They went off with those dames Casino was with," replied Chief.

"Together?" asked Terry in surprise and dread.

"Not exactly," replied Goniff. "Mary, the skirt what's been 'angin' around with Casino, took 'im 'ome with 'er. Gilly, her girlfriend, she was more interested in Actor. She took off somewhere with 'im."

Terry looked at the pickpocket dubiously. "Wait a minute; I know Casino's girl is younger than me. I thought the other one looked even younger?"

Chief shrugged, "She's about Crystal's age."

Terry stared at him in shocked surprise. "I hope you're pulling my leg," she said.

Chief shook his head. He was having a hard time keeping a straight face at Terry's reaction.

"Crystal's age and she's with Actor?"

Goniff was watching her reaction with amusement. It wasn't often they had to chance to get Terry riled up. "I don't think ole Actor cares what age they are."

"Jeez, the man has no scruples," muttered Terry.

"You just now figurin' that out?" asked Chief was a grin.

Terry ignored that one, but another worry entered her mind. "When will they be back? And don't tell me when they're done."

That brought a laugh from both men. Now it was Goniff's turn to jerk Terry's chain.

"Actor'll be back before Casino," said Goniff, enjoying the explanation. "You see, Casino, 'e likes to sit in bed and 'ave a cigarette afterwards and chat a bit."

"How do you know?" Terry couldn't help asking.

"'E said so."

"You guys discuss this?" squeaked Terry.

"Sure." Chief was chuckling at the girl's reaction. She glared at him.

"You're pulling my leg," she accused Goniff.

"No he ain't," replied Chief.

Goniff was enjoying shocking Terry and it was a good way to get back at Actor for taking the bird Goniff would have liked to have gone home with, so he continued, "Now Actor, 'e makes sure the bird is satisfied first before 'e gets 'is. That way the bird is 'appy and don't come after 'im, 'specially if 'e takes some of 'er jewelry."

Terry shook her head, not sure whether to believe this or not. "He beds them and then steals from them?"

"E does over on the Continent. I don't know about 'ere seeing as the Warden made the rule everything we take 'ere, we 'ave to put back." Goniff grinned wider. "Now when we're on a mission and the Warden's off meetin' with somebody or gettin' information, Actor'll sometimes take off and meet a barmaid, or somebody out 'o 'is little black book, and when 'e comes back, 'e's 'appy and 'as a little somethin' in 'is pocket."

"Goniff!" exclaimed Terry in a low voice so as not to be heard by the other patrons.

Chief knew right where her mind had gone and laughed. "He means something like a necklace, or bracelet, or a ring."

Terry looked back and forth between the two men and shook her head in disgust. "I'm going back to the bar."

They watched her walk away.

"Wanna bet she lights into Actor when 'e gets back?"

"I wouldn't if I was her," said Chief with a laugh.

"Yeah, but you ain't 'er, Mate," grinned Goniff. "I gotta fiver says she does."

"I think she's smarter than that," replied Chief. "You're on."

"She might be smarter'n that, but she's still a bird. And 'er and Actor are getting pretty close."

"Not that close," said Chief, but he wondered.

Sometime later, Actor strolled into the Fox and sat down at his stool at the end of the bar. Terry poured him a glass of Courvoisier and placed it in front of him. She looked at his face. There was a small, satisfied smile beneath relaxed features. She knew the signs. The man had just gotten laid.

She pulled a stool up on her side of the bar and sat down. The place was quiet, so she might get this conversation in. She knew she shouldn't start something with the man, but she was strangely annoyed.

"Did you take her jewelry?" Terry asked casually.

"No," replied Actor indignantly. "She didn't have anything worth taking."

Terry swallowed that one down and looked at him. "You hate women, don't you?"

Actor looked at her with raised eyebrows. "You know better than that. I love women." He took a sip of his drink.

"Yes," agreed Terry, "for your sexual gratification, but you don't respect them."

Actor glared at the girl. He had come in, basking in the dregs of the warm afterglow that followed good sex and Teresa was rapidly ruining it. "I think this conversation needs to end . . . now," he said firmly.

Terry knew she should, but she wasn't ready to give it up yet. "Why? Afraid to answer me?" She saw the sparks in the hazel eyes. "I'm serious. I want to know why you treat women the way you do." She continued on. "Casino I can understand. I just didn't think you were that base."

"Excuse me?" said Actor pointedly.

"Look at the women you go home with," said Terry. "They either have no scruples or they have the same scruples you do. Don't you ever want to meet someone and spend the rest of your life with her? "

"What on earth for?" demanded Actor haughtily. "Why should I tie myself down with one woman who would do nothing except make demands on me? I can have a woman whenever I want one. Yes, I can get my 'sexual gratification' and without the strings to tie me down. I need nothing more than that."

"What about love?" she asked in a softer tone. "Don't you want someone to love you?"

Actor snorted elegantly. "Love? Love is just a trap."

Terry let out a low whistle at that. "Who hurt you that bad?" she asked gently.

The inscrutable mask lowered over Actor's face. "Enough, Teresa!"

He got up and took his glass over to the far table where Chief and Goniff were sitting. The two looked at the con man and both tried to stifle grins.

"Uh, Terry have somethin' to say about your – uh . . ."

"Peccadillo?" inserted Goniff with a bright grin at being able to use a big word. "See Chiefy, that means . . ."

"I know what it means," said the Indian. He looked at Actor.

The Italian took a sip of his drink and reached in his pocket for his cigarette case. "She mentioned something about it," was all he would admit to.

Goniff held out his hand and Chief reluctantly slapped a five into it. Actor eyed them with exasperation.

"Now what?" he asked.

Chief shrugged. "I didn't think Terry would be crazy enough to corner you about your women."

"Told yuh, Mate," grinned Goniff, gleefully pocketing the money.

Actor eyed both of them and then made a show of lighting a cigarette. First Teresa, now these two. Couldn't a man get his needs taken care of without all this aggravation?

"Teresa, did not 'corner' me," said Actor with feigned disinterest. He looked at his watch. "It should be last call soon."

A little while later, Casino breezed into the bar and walked up to Terry, a satisfied smirk on his face. Terry just shook her head. Her brothers had never been like this. Chief seemed to be the only one with any sense of morality. That thought hit her as wrong, considering the man was a convicted killer.

"Hey, Babe," greeted the safecracker. "Do I got time for one more beer? I'm thirsty."

"Yeah, one more," said Terry.

She just bet he was thirsty. Turning, she went to draw him another glass from the tap. He accepted it with a grin and took a long drink before turning and heading for the table with the other men. Terry just shook her head and called for last call. There were only a few people left in the place beside the four delinquents, so she had the glasses that were back washed and was wiping down the bar top by the time it was closing. It didn't take long to finish washing the remaining dirty glasses. Goniff and Chief wiped down the tables for her while Actor and Casino remained seated in conversation.

Terry followed the men to the front door of the Fox so she could lock it behind them. Her motorcycle was parked in the alley. They filed out with Casino bringing up the rear. The safe cracker stopped short and turned to Terry with a grin.

"Hey, you gonna ride home with us, Babe?" asked Casino, a slight slur to his speech.

"You gonna bring me in tomorrow night to work if I leave my motorcycle here?" she shot back at him.

"Sure," he replied. "Got nothin' better to do."

Terry walked out, locking the door behind her. Actor was ignoring her. He stopped on the sidewalk to light a cigarette in the cool night breeze, cupping his hands around the match. Terry skirted around him, going to the car with the others. Chief sent a glance back at the con man, who seemed in no hurry to come open the car door for Terry. Chief opened the door and held it for Terry. Actor walked around the car and got in on the other side, behind the wheel. Terry slid in and scooted over to her usual place in the middle, next to the Italian. Her arms were folded in front of her. Chief bent down and took one look at the expressions on the two and shut the door, climbing in the back with Casino and Goniff instead. Terry looked at the empty place beside her and stayed right where she was. Actor started the car and pulled away from the curb.

Chief looked at the empty seat in front of him. Boy, that girl was stubborn. She wasn't about to concede an inch to Actor by moving over. He wondered how long this was going to go on. Goniff nudged Casino with his elbow and nodded at the two heads in front of them. Both were faced stiffly forward. Casino grinned. He loved it when someone got in the arrogant Italian's face and stayed there. Terry was definitely the woman for the job. At times, she seemed totally immune to the lady's man's charms or his disdain. It was a very quiet ride back to the Mansion.

Terry entered the foyer and saw the open door to Craig's office. The light was on, so she strolled on in.

"They back too?" Garrison asked, not really concerned.

"Yeah. They took the scenic route up the trellis."

Garrison chuckled. He had never seen Actor going up or down the trellis. It didn't seem like the elegant man's style, but he had seen the tall Italian scale enough walls and fences to know the man's size did not negate his ability and flexibility. "Someday I'll have to watch Actor tackle the trellis," he said with a grin.

"Well, he's mad enough right now to go up the tree with no difficulty," said Terry, taking a seat in the chair across from Craig's desk.

"You too get in a fight?" he asked in some surprise. They might bicker, but they usually didn't get into anything major.

"Yup."

"About what?" Craig leaned back in his chair. This should be interesting.

"About him and his women."

Garrison stared at her. "What did he do, go out and get laid?"

Terry nodded.

"And you cornered him about it?" Craig couldn't believe she had done that.

"I didn't corner him. I just asked him some questions," Terry said, picking at a fingernail.

Garrison sighed. "Haven't you learned by now you don't tease him about his age or his women?"

"I wasn't teasing," said Terry. "I just don't understand him. He's very nice and considerate to me. He watches out for me and does nice little things now and then. But he treats women like they're there for nothing more than to satisfy his urges."

Alarms rang like church bells in Craig's mind. Terry was on a mission again. The last one had been to stop the discrimination and derogatory remarks from the local ranchers against Monty for being an Indian in a white family. Apparently now the girl was going to try to tame their resident Casanova. He was all for trying to guide the cons towards rehabilitation so they could fit back into society, but changing Actor's outlook on the female gender wasn't something she should even be attempting.

Craig shook his head. "Terry, he's the greatest confidence man in the business. It's his stock in trade to size up a person and make himself talk and act like he thinks they want him to."

"Are you saying his being nice to me is just a big con?" asked Terry incredulously.

Got to be careful here, thought Craig. The last thing he wanted was for Terry to get in a major blowout with Actor. "Not necessarily. I think he values your friendship. But I wouldn't place all my trust in him. The con is too ingrained into him. He's what he is, Terry. He doesn't have any more scruples than Goniff. You can't change him. The more you try, the more he's going to resist."

"I understand that," said Terry. "I just thought if someone actually treated him kindly, he might see there's a better way to live."

Craig sighed. "Maybe a better way by your standards, but not necessarily by his. You can treat him kindly, Terry, but don't expect it to change him."

"And that's a shame."

"Yes, it is. But he's Actor. He's arrogant, and he can be mean. And he's happy the way he is."

Terry couldn't help remembering the aftermath of the concussion, when the con man was horrified at what he was. Apparently he had buried that thought.

G

The next morning, Terry was at the stove when Actor entered the kitchen. He took a seat at the table.

"You want coffee," Terry asked with her usual demeanor.

"Please."

Terry moved around the table and got a mug from the cupboard. She filled it with coffee and spooned the right amount of sugar into it before setting it in front of him.

"Thank you," said Actor. He took a careful sip because it was hot and savored the fact she had gotten it just right for him. "About our conversation last night." Terry's back remained to him. "That subject is off limits."

"Yes," she replied evenly. "You want eggs and bacon?"

"Yes, thank you," he replied. Actor was surprised that she had not objected at all.

"Scrambled, fried or omelet? I have a tiny bit of cheese left."

"Omelet would be nice," said the con man.

Terry moved over to the fridge and got out a couple eggs, the cheese and some milk. She moved around the table, gathering a plate, bowl and some utensils. Basically ignoring him, she mixed the eggs with some milk, salt and pepper and dried Herbs de Provence. Whipping the mixture with a fork, she put a skillet on the stove and spooned some bacon fat into it.

Actor got up and placed some bread in the toaster. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Not yet," replied Terry. She started making the omelet.

"Why don't you make yourself something to eat and join me," suggested Actor. "I have something I wish to discuss with you."

"Okay," she said in the same even voice. Brother, he isn't going to let it go, is he, she thought.

Terry made up his plate with bacon and omelet and set it in front of him. She walked around to put two pieces of bread in the toaster for herself. When she turned back, he was carefully spreading a scant bit of oleo on his toast. Silently, Terry got in the fridge and set a half-pint of strawberry jam next to him.

Actor looked at it in surprised appreciation. "How did you manage to come by that?"

"I traded for eggs and some green beans."

Terry took a couple rashers of bacon out of the oven and put them on a plate, then retrieved her mug of coffee before getting her toast. Then, she sat down. Might as well get this over with, she thought.

"What is it you wanted to talk about?" she asked.

"I'm concerned with you riding the motorcycle back and forth to Brandonshire at night," he said. "One of these days we are going to find your body by the side of the road with a broken neck because you hit a pothole."

Terry had planned to be unemotional about anything he said. That flew out the window at the incongruence of his concern. She turned her head to stare at him. "You want to strangle me and you're concerned I might break my stupid neck?"

Actor set his fork in his plate and looked back at her. "Teresa, I was angry with you last night. My attitude and habits regarding women is not a topic I will discuss with you. That said, it does not mean I do not have concern for your well-being."

Terry eyed him warily; Craig's words floating through her mind. "So what do you suggest, about the motorcycle I mean? You want me to move back to Brandonshire?"

"Not at all," he objected. "Must you jump to conclusions?"

"Well, I don't know what you mean, so spit it out." So much for unemotional conversations.

Actor watched her. "I am merely saying I think it would be prudent for you to have a car."

Terry stared at him. "A car. You want me to buy a car." She shook her head. "I suppose I can take some money out the bank in London to cover it." She cocked her head and looked at him in exasperation. "Where am I going to find a car?"

Actor picked up his knife and fork and began cutting his bacon. Terry watched him take a bit on his fork and place it in his mouth. He was the only person she had ever met who ate bacon with a fork.

"I believe we can find something suitable for you," he said.

Terry's eyes narrowed. "You found one already."

"In London. I think it will be acceptable to you. And I can get it at a reasonable price."

She knew what his _reasonable price_ was. "It's not hot?"

For once he took no offense. "Not at all. It is perfectly legal." He took a sip of coffee. "It is British, but I know you are capable of driving with the steering wheel on the right. Would you like it?"

"I don't even know what it is?" objected Terry. "How much?"

"I will deal with that."

"Deal with it how?" she asked suspiciously.

"We will go take a look at it today, and if you like it, I will negotiate for it."

Terry had to laugh. This was absurd. "Uh, don't you think you better run this by Craig first?"

"I already have," replied the man. "He has the same concerns as I." He motioned with his fork at her untouched plate. "Finish your breakfast and then get ready."

Terry wondered if she had drunk too much the night before, but she hadn't drunk anything. She set about eating her toast with bacon and HP sauce. Actor was back in his chair in the common room when Terry emerged from the kitchen and went into her brother's office.

"Craig?" she asked dubiously.

He held a hand up. "I know. Just go with him."

"You're okay with this?" she asked.

"Actually, I have to agree with him on this one. I don't like you riding the motorcycle at night and you always end up taking the Packard in winter." Craig looked calmly at her. "You're better off with a car. And Actor said he could find something reasonable for you. Just make sure it isn't hot."

"He says it isn't." Terry frowned. "What about gas rationing? The motorcycle takes very little petrol."

Garrison shook his head. "I don't know. We'll work something out."

G

Terry let Actor open her door before she got out. They were in a part of London she wasn't familiar with. It was partially seedy and partially middle class. She wondered what kind of a car the con man had found here. Oh well, as long as it ran and Chief could fix it . . .

A little rotund, balding, bespectacled man hurried out of the house they were in front of. "Ah, Mr. Mancini," he greeted Actor with a healthy dose of respect. Mancini again, thought Terry. "This is the woman you told me about?"

"Yes," replied Actor. "Teresa Garrison, Howard Carruthers."

"Nice to meet you, Miss," said the man, bobbing his head.

"Nice to meet you too, Mr. Carruthers," smiled Terry.

The little man led the way around to the rundown wooden garage. "I have it filled with petrol just like you ordered, Sir," he said to Actor. "And it's been cleaned and washed and polished. You can see yourself in the finish, Sir."

"Fine," said Actor, with his usual arrogant smile.

He and Terry stood in the drive as the man pulled open the wooden door to the garage. Terry stared. The front of the car was illuminated by the daylight, a shiny British Racing Green with sparkling chrome bumper and blacked out headlamps.

"That's an MG," she said in awe.

"To be more specific, it is a 1938 MG SA Tickford," said Actor drolly.

Terry moved tentatively into the garage and peered into the interior of the car. The inside looked like it was brand new with cream colored upholstery and wood dash. The stick shift was on the floor instead of the wheel. The Tickford retractable top looked like it had never seen weather. The car was beautiful and reflected speed and cost.

"If you like it, it's yours," said Actor beside her, trying to stifle the smile at her obvious awe.

Terry stared. Like it? She loved it! Then she frowned. "Excuse me," she said to Carruthers. "I would like to speak to Mr. Mancini a moment."

Terry took Actor's hand and led him a little ways away. "Actor, I can't afford that!" she hissed at him.

There was amusement in the Italian's eyes. "I told you the price would be negotiable."

"I don't care how negotiable it is, I can't afford an MG!"

"MG SA."

"Okay, MG SA. I still can't afford it."

"Just answer me this, yes or no, do you like the car?"

"What do you think? Of course I like the car. Did you test drive it?"

"Naturally," he replied indignantly. Actor looked past her at the little man. "We will take it."

He stepped away, leaving Terry at a loss for words. Her eyes widened when he took a check book from his pocket and holding it against the garage door, proceeded to write out a check with his black fountain pen. Mr. Carruthers exchanged the keys and log book for the check and smiled at the tall man.

"I hope the young miss enjoys it, Sir," he said.

"I am sure she will," said Actor. "Thank you."

"Oh, you're very welcome, Sir." He scooted toward the house.

Actor handed the keys to Teresa. She stared at him.

"How much?" she asked.

"I've taken care of it," said Actor, nonchalantly. He knew Teresa hated it when he bought things for her which in her eyes were not appropriate. Maybe this would put her back in her place.

"Actor!" objected Terry, trying to keep her voice low. "You buy me clothes, you can't buy me a car."

"I don't see why not. It is my money and I can spend it as I choose."

"Craig is going to kill you," she objected a bit more weakly, wisely biting back a retort that she wasn't the Italian's kept woman.

"No he isn't," Actor assured her. "He knows he would never be able to find another confidence man anywhere close to my caliber."

Terry shook her head. The man's ego was sure there in full force.

"Go get your car, Teresa," said Actor. "And please try to keep it at a reasonable speed." He knew the Packard would eventually reach a top speed of 85 mph, but the MG would reach that speed faster and be gone ahead of him.

G

Chief heard the two cars coming up the drive and looked out the window in curiosity. "Damn," he said uncharacteristically. "Actor sure knows how to pick a car."

Garrison came out of his office. He had a sinking feeling from the Indian's reaction. The four men went out the front door onto the steps. Craig took a look at the shiny, obviously expensive sports car his sister was driving. The top was down and her hair looked like it had been blowing free for quite awhile.  
"Oh shit," he said quietly.

The cons hurried down the steps as Terry got out of the car and Actor got out of the Packard. Craig followed a bit more slowly. He stopped in front of his sister who was looking a bit nonplussed.

"You can afford to buy that?" he asked in disbelief.

"Not exactly," she hedged.

"Then how exactly did you get it?" asked Craig sternly.

"Ask him," she nodded toward the con man.

"Tell me he didn't," said Craig.

"He did."

"Actor!"

G

Several days and another mission had passed since Terry's return to the Mansion with the British sports car. There had been a long discussion in Garrison's office between him and Actor before Garrison had been forced by logic to concede to the con man's wishes to pay for the MG. Garrison did not like to be beholden in any way to the confidence man, but he had a suspicion the man's motives were more in line with putting Terry in her place . . . wherever that was. The Italian and girl were polite to one another, but the old camaraderie between the two seemed to have slipped a bit.

One afternoon Garrison was to attend an intelligence meeting at G-2 in Brandonshire. Craig stepped into his bathroom to shave. He noted the curtain was pulled around the claw footed bathtub behind him, but assumed Terry had done it to keep the mildew from growing on the curtain. Humming to himself, he shaved his face and started on his throat. Suddenly a loud squawk erupted behind him, making him jump and leaving a long scratch up the left side of his throat. Dropping the razor in the sink, he whirled around and jerked the curtain back. A shiny black hen looked stupidly up at him. Beside it in the bottom of the tub was a brown egg.

"Teresa Marie Garrison!"

Terry and the four cons looked to the stairs at the blare of her full name. Garrison came down the stairs, face full of anger and half his neck full of shaving cream, a trickle of blood in a line down the other half. The chicken was held in front of him in both hands.

"I damn near slit my own throat!" He glared at his sister. "Why did you put a chicken in my bathtub?"

"That's Ethel," said Terry.

"I don't care what her name is! Why was she in my bathtub?  
Terry smiled smugly at him. "I believe, Brother, that is payback for sending me to interrupticus Actor's coitus in London back when we were on that first 72 hour pass."

"Teresa!" blasted the Italian behind her in embarrassed anger.

The young woman just grinned to the accompanying guffaws of the other three cons. She walked up to take the bird from her brother, ignoring him and the livid con man, and tucked Ethel under her arm.

"Yeah, well, she left an egg in the tub," said Craig, still unhappy.

"Good girl, Ethel," said Terry approvingly to the chicken as she walked toward the kitchen, snuggling the bird and gently stroking the shiny soft neck.


	6. Chapter 6

Splinters

Part 6

The shiny green MG pulled up to park beside the Packard. The men had returned last night. Even though they had been delayed, Terry had still had not made it back in time to have the house ready when they returned. She gathered herself before getting out of the car, knowing Chief would be watching her out the window.

Terry made it up the stairs with a normal gait, but leaned briefly against the outside of the front door, taking some deep breaths and steeling herself for going in. She pulled herself upright and put a smile on her face. Quietly opening the door, she let herself in. The door to Garrison's office was open and he was at his desk working on the endless paperwork that came with his job. Chief was in his window in the common room, cleaning his blade as usual. Goniff and Casino were at the table playing solitaire. Actor was in his chair behind Casino, reading a book and puffing on his pipe. Terry strolled toward the game table.

"Where were you?" asked Craig after spotting her.

"With Kit," she replied only half truthfully. "Sorry, Brother, with all the fighting going on over there right now I really didn't expect you'd get out for another couple days."

"Neither did we," he brushed it off.

Terry came up to Casino's back and placed a hand on his shoulder, looking at the cards spread out in front of him. She twisted slightly, shooting a spasm of pain through her side. This caused her to tighten her grip on his shoulder. As he turned his head to look at her, she pointed at the cards, "red three on the black four. You're cheating again."

Casino snorted.

Terry glanced at Actor and stealthily kicked his foot. The con man looked up at her and frowned. She was pale and he could tell something was wrong. "I need you," she mouthed at him. Shielding her actions from the others with her body, her thumb pointed up and then she held out five fingers. He gave a tiny nod and sent a questioning look at her. Her right hand made a small movement to pull her jacket back on the right. Actor saw the blood and looked at her sharply. Terry tilted her eyes toward Garrison's office and gave a small shake of her head. Frowning, Actor gave another brief nod.

Terry headed for the stairs. "Hey, Craig, I'm going up and take a nap. We had a private party at the Fox last night and I was tending bar until three. Then we just decided to go ahead and clean up."

"Want me to fend off Kit if she calls?" he asked, not looking up.

"Yeah, would you?"

Terry made it up the stairs and to her room, closing the door behind her. Unable to suppress a small groan, she eased herself down on the bed and lay on her back. She hadn't bothered to take the jacket off. She had rested for a couple minutes and gotten her breath back when the door opened and Actor slipped in.

The Italian sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled the jacket open. The shirt underneath had a ragged long hole and a lot of blood. His closed expression hid the concern he felt. "What happened?" he asked in a low voice.

"Got shot," replied Terry. "It went through."

"Am I safe to assume you did not get this working for the U. S. Army?" he asked caustically.

Terry did not answer.

The fact that she did not want the Lieutenant to know about the injury told him she had not acquired it on a legitimate mission. So what was she doing and where? Actor pulled her shirttail out and started unbuttoning it. He peeled it away from the dressing. The gauze was saturated with blood. "And what makes you think I am not going to tell the Lieutenant about this?" he asked testily out of concern.

"Because I'm asking for your word that you won't and I trust your word."

Actor looked at her sourly, but nodded. The girl was rapidly becoming enmeshed in the strange code of ethics held by the cons to cover for one another. A faint tap came from the door. Actor quickly pulled the jacket back over to cover the wound. He went to the door as Terry watched warily. Actor opened the door a crack and looked into Casino's grim face.

"Private party?" asked the safecracker sarcastically in a low voice.

"As a matter of fact . . .," replied Actor. "What do you want?"

"She's hurt. She was leanin' on me and when she pointed to the cards there was blood on her hand. What happened?"

Actor opened the door wide enough to admit the other man and motioned him to come in quickly. Casino slid into the room. He couldn't see any obvious injury on the woman for where he was.

Terry regarded him cautiously from the bed. "Are all of you coming up here?"

Casino shook his head. "They didn't see nothin'." He walked around to the other side of the bed as Actor resumed his place.

"Let's sit her up and get that jacket and shirt off so I can work with it," said Actor.

"Uh, excuse me?" said Terry. You are not undressing me."

"Why not?" grinned Casino. "You do it to us."

"That's different."

The con man looked at her steadily. "Do you wish me to take care of you, or would you prefer I get the Warden to do it?" Actor eyed her and said significantly, "I am sure both of us have seen plenty of women in brassieres before."

Casino chuckled and gave her a crooked grin.

"That's supposed to make me feel better? I'm sure you've both seen more than your fair share of women _without_ bras too. That doesn't mean I'm going to do a strip tease for you." Terry did grab an arm of both of them and allowed them to pull her up. It was rather disquieting to have both men undress her. She laid back down to let Actor remove the dressing.

Casino looked at the bloody gash and shook his head. "Jeez, Terry. You didn't get that tending bar at the Fox."

"France," said Terry. "It was a roadblock that didn't go okay."

"I'll get the aid kit," offered Casino.

While he was gone, Actor went into the bathroom and wet some towels. He returned and began cleaning the blood from around the wound. His hands were gentle.

"Thank you," said Terry.

Actor looked at her, allowing a frown now that they were alone. "I am not happy."

"I can tell." She squeezed his arm. "I'm sorry I'm worrying you."

Actor sighed. "I suppose it makes up in part for the worry we give you."

Terry smiled ruefully, "You only have one of me. I have five of you."

Casino returned with the aid kit, handing it to the Italian, while taking another good look at the furrow in Terry's side.

"Casino, watch the door, please," said Actor, getting what he needed from the kit. "It would not do for the Warden to suddenly decide he must talk to his sister."

For once, Casino didn't argue, but positioned himself at the door, wondering what he would say to Garrison if the man caught two of his cons with his half-naked sister in her bedroom.

Actor kept his face impassive as he injected lidocaine around the injury and began to suture it. Nothing in his countenance showed the thoughts going through his mind. He admired the silky pale flesh below the disgustingly utilitarian cotton bra. If she were his woman, she would be wearing a lacy garment meant to enhance her natural attributes, not imprison them. However, she was not his woman and was hardly likely to attain that distinction. He had bought her silk and lace undergarments in the past, but he did not know if she even wore them. The con man clamped his mind shut on any further contemplation in that direction, not sure why his mind had gone there in the first place.

Actor put sulfa and gauze on the sutured wound and quietly called Casino to come assist. "Sit her up," instructed the Italian. Casino sat on the opposite side of the bed and helped Terry to sit up. She leaned her forehead on his shoulder while Actor wrapped her ribs with gauze wrap.

"That should give you some support," he said when he finished.

Terry straightened and reached a hand up to Actor's neck, pulling his head down so she could kiss his cheek. She released him and turned and kissed Casino's cheek. "Thank you."

"Yeah, well don't make a habit of this," griped Casino.

"Telling that to her is like telling it to the Warden," complained Actor. "Let's get her into bed."

Casino got up and pulled Terry's boots off while Actor put up the aid kit. The Italian helped her to her feet so Casino could pull back the covers on the bed. Actor supported her with one arm while the other hand unbuttoned and unzipped her pants.

"I can do that myself," said Terry indignantly, ineffectively swatting at his hand.

"I can do it faster," shot back Actor.

Terry thought about that and almost laughed, except it hurt her ribs. She listened instead to Casino's chuckle. Suddenly exhausted, she dropped her head against Actor's chest.

"Are you all right?" he asked in some concern.

"Tired," replied Terry. "I haven't slept in a couple days."

She was helped into bed and the covers were tucked around her by both men. Casino picked up the old dressings and shirt and rolled them into a ball.

"What are you going to do with those?" asked Actor.

"Take 'em to my room for now. I'll get them out tonight and put 'em in the bottom of the burn barrel. I doubt the Warden is going to dig through the trash."

The two men took one last look at Terry. "We will come up and check on you as we can," said Actor.

Terry nodded. She closed her eyes. Her last thought before she drifted off into sleep was that she had two mother hens watching out for her. She was asleep before they had gotten out of the room.

G

Casino watched the door, while Actor slipped into Terry's room. The girl was sleeping on her back. Actor approached the bed silently. He lifted the covers to check on the bandage. It was still clean. For the second time that day he noticed the prominence of her ribs. She was too thin. He knew she gave the men the lion's share of the meals she cooked, but maybe she should be told not to do that.

Letting the covers back down, he eased a hip on the edge of the bed. He wondered why she was going on her own missions. _Was_ it the army sending her in or was she working for an underground group. Whichever it was, he did not like it. And he did not wish to examine too closely his motives for not liking it. She should stay at the Mansion, taking care of all of them, not running around Europe playing war games that should be reserved for men. At the same time, he had come to appreciate having her working a con with him. She had graduated now to working the German officers they were trying to get information from. It was much more pleasurable having her work the con with him than to just be a pretty piece on his arm.

Actor reached a hand out and laid the backs of his fingers against her cheek. It did not feel feverish. Hopefully she could get by without the wound becoming infected. For no good reason, he brushed back the hair that had strayed across her forehead. He was about to get up when her eyes opened. He was ready to clamp a hand over her mouth if she started to scream. She just looked up at him, slightly startled, but not afraid.

"I came to check on you," he said.

Terry nodded. "What time is it?"

The Italian looked at his watch. "Four-thirty."

Terry sighed, "I better get up and start cooking dinner." She started to stretch, but remembering her state of dress, decided that wouldn't be a good idea right now. Instead, she looked up at him and said quietly, "Thank you."

Actor shook his head, "What are you into, Little One?"

She cocked an eyebrow at him.

"I know. You do not like to be called Little One."

She gave a small grin. "You can call me Little One. From you I will take it." The grin faded. "I can't tell you what I'm doing. And Craig can't know about it."

"I still don't like it, Teresa," said Actor.

"I know," soothed Terry. "I don't like you guys going on all these missions so close together. It's just something we have to do. And if it makes even a little bit of difference in this war, then I guess it's worth it." She smiled again and gave his knee a light shove. "Now get out of here. I want to get dressed and I normally don't parade around in my underwear in front of strange men."

Actor stood up and with aplomb stated, "I do not consider myself to be strange. Now Casino on the other hand . . ."

Terry was grinning now. "Out!"

Instead of returning to the downstairs common room, the two men went to Casino's room. Casino sat down on the edge of the bed, indicating Actor could take the chair. The con man sat, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offering one to the safecracker. Casino accepted one with a nod, coming up with a match and lighting both their cigarettes.

"So wadda you think?" asked Casino.

Actor shook his head. "I'm not sure."

"She's into something besides what the Army gives her," mused the safecracker, taking a drag on his cigarette.

"That is obvious," said Actor. "Especially since she does not wish for the Warden to know about it."

"So she didn't tell you before this?" asked Casino. "I figured she'd tell you."

"Not about this," admitted the Italian. "I know she was sent in with another team one time while we were on a mission. She was back before we were, so the Lieutenant did not know about that one until afterwards. He was not happy."

"I bet not," said Casino with a quirk of his head. He frowned, "What kind of a team?"

"I believe the Warden, and now Teresa, are working with another Lieutenant setting up a team similar to ours. Or that is what Teresa has said."

"Cons?" asked Casino in surprise.

"Mixed," replied Actor. "Some are special forces. I know their confidence man is from a prison in Ireland." He smiled smugly. "She did not like working with him."

Casino gave a snort. Actor didn't think anyone could be as good as he was. That gave the safecracker pause. "Who's the cracksman?"

Actor shook his head. "Don't know. She doesn't use names. Security. She said she doesn't tell them who we are either."

The two smoked in silence for a bit.

"So what are we gonna do about her?" asked Casino, nodding in the direction of the girl's room.

"For now, just watch her, and hope she comes back in one piece from wherever it is she goes," replied Actor.

"Yeah, I guess," said Casino. "Or at least comes back in good enough shape you can fix her, like now."

Neither of the men cared to question why they were working together on this.


End file.
